


All The World's Treasures

by doctorwatsonofhogwarts



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Banter, British English, Dumbledore Dies, Feel-good, Harry Potter is Not a Horcrux, Harry has a childhood, M/M, Sass and Sarcasm, Spells & Enchantments, Swearing, Treasure Hunting, Voldemort Dies, Wizarding World, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2018-11-08 08:10:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 37,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11077515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorwatsonofhogwarts/pseuds/doctorwatsonofhogwarts
Summary: AU. The Horcruxes were destroyed before the attack on Godric's Hollow - leaving Voldemort dead for good. Harry still became the Boy-Who-Lived, although he was blessed with his parents staying alive. What difference did having his parents with him make as he grew up? Well, he refused to go to Hogwarts for a start… [ongoing|frequent updates]





	1. Cairo

**Author's Note:**

> The rating may go up in the future, and relevant characters and tags will be added with future chapters.

1981

Albus Dumbledore stood among the ashes, his wand still held loosely in his weakening hand. His body was charred, his heart barely beating.

The hill was covered in ashes and soot, ashes of what was once Voldemort's horcruxes. Nothing stood a chance against Fiendfyre.

Even Albus Dumbledore.

With his last breath, Albus smiled, for it was done.

…

1996

If there was anyone who Lily Evans loved more than her husband, it was her son. Who, unfortunately, took a little too much after his father.

It was a battle and a half to get Harry to sit still in one place, that boy was constantly searching for adventures. When he was younger he tired out both of his parents, as well as the rest of the Marauders before the day was even done – and he still had energy for more.

He was sixteen now and Lily was glad she didn't have to run after him no more (even though she still thought he needed constant supervision). Harry was off doing his own thing in the world, leaving her to work as a Potions Mistress while James continued his successful Auror career.

When Harry turned eleven, he didn't go to Hogwarts. It broke his parents' hearts and more than a few glass ornaments during their arguments. Lily knew deep in her heart that Harry hated school. He was too free of a spirit to sit in classrooms all day. That didn't mean she wanted her son to have no education.

It surprised her when Harry fought that argument back with an apprenticeship. Lily didn't know that wizards took apprentices that young and James, when questioned, admitted it was mostly done outside of Britain. That was true, the apprenticeship was with a group of wizards stationed in Egypt.

They were curse breakers and treasure hunters. Usually students after Hogwarts or other schools came and started working with them, but the best treasure hunters started young. Rowan Maddox knew that and decided to find an apprentice before he got too old. He was a British wizard, but he hasn't been a resident of the country since his Hogwarts years.

Harry wanted to be that apprentice and fought tooth and nail for it. After months of arguments and Harry's accidental magic blowing up their kitchen on multiple occasions, both Lily and James agreed – under some conditions.

Thus, Harry went to Cairo at the age of eleven with a wand, and an owl to write to his parents on weekly basis. He visited often, bringing gold and items he found on expeditions (his cut of the treasure, as was the custom) as well as stories that sometimes sounded more made up than real. Harry travelled through Egypt with Maddox, and all around the world with the group of treasure hunters. He saw more than most do in their entire lifetime and thrived off it.

When he came back at the age of thirteen with a burn that covered half of his arm, Lily almost refused to let him go again.

Next time it happened, James just threw a healing salve at him.

Harry was a treasure hunter for six years. A few weeks ago, Lily and James were visited by Rowan Maddox for the first time since Lily almost pulled him out of the apprenticeship three years before.

“I have nothing left to teach him,” Rowan admitted. “If anything, he surpassed me. I got him to learn everything he'd be taught in school and passed all my knowledge of curse breaking and treasure hunting.”

Lily and James shared a look. “Well, what does that mean for Harry?” James asked carefully.

“I want Harry to go for a Mastery in Curse Breaking. He could pass it any day of the week, but the rules for it have changed since he started his apprenticeship. A few years ago, he could pass it without his OWLs and NEWTs, because he was apprenticing under a Master. Now he needs to formally get his exams, before he can take the tests for Curse Breaking.”

Lily and James understood. They also knew that Harry would not be happy with the development.

They were right.

“What? I have to go to _school_?” The sixteen-year-old complained when his Master and his parents broke the news to him.

“Not for another year,” Lily tried to reason with him. She let out a sigh, wishing for the conversation to be over. She was worried her kitchen would once again get blown up, like it did years go. “The Ministry agreed for you to take the OWLs without having to take the classes, but they want you to spend a year at school before your NEWTs. I'm sorry sweetheart, we tried our best.”

Harry grumbled, glaring at his parents. “We were meant to be going to _Peru_ that year! Peru! Mum, there's plans to search Norte Chico!”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “I promise you kid, it's going to take more than a year to get clearance from their government for an expedition there. You'll get to come after you get your NEWTs.”

“What if I don't though? What if you _do_ get clearance? I don't want to miss out.”

“Harry, you need your NEWTs. You can't take your Mastery without them. That's the rules, Prongslet.” James said. “Peru will wait for you, it's been there for a few thousand years, I'm sure it can wait a few more.”

Harry looked between the three adults. He threw his best pleading look at his mum, who just looked away. He wasn't going to win this battle, it seemed.

“Promise me you'll wait for me with the Peru expedition?” Harry looked at Rowan.

The older man smiled, his weathered face wrinkling heavily around his eyes. “I promise, kid. I know how much it means to you.”

…

1997

Harry Potter wasn't happy with the current development, but happier than when he got the news of it for the first time a year ago.

He was going to Hogwarts for a year to do his NEWTs. He didn't understand why the Ministry wouldn't just let him do his NEWTs there, like they did with his OWLs (he passed with flying colours).

Going to Hogwarts wouldn't have been so bad if it weren't for the fact that he absolutely abhorred being in a classroom. Also, he would be missing out on a whole year of treasure hunting. If Rowan found something huge in that year he was away, Harry was going to strangle the man.

“It's only for one year,” James said as he hugged him at the platform. “You can then go to Peru and do your Mastery with Rowan.”

“Yeah,” Harry mumbled. “I still don't want to go.”

“You have to though, unless you want to be considered an apprentice for the rest of your life.” James smiled. Harry shrugged at him.

“Harry, look at me. You're my son and I love you.” Lily took his hand into hers. “But if you don't stop complaining I might just have to hex you. Don't make me do it.”

That statement made Harry laugh weakly. “She's right prongslet. Stop acting like a first year and just enjoy it. Consider this year like a break and prank some people.” James punched his son in the arm playfully.

“James don't encourage him.” Lily scolded. “Remember to study and please, at least try to behave in class. I know you don't like school, but be nice to your teachers, please Harry.”

Harry nodded. “I'll try.” He said.

The Hogwarts Express whistled loudly, announcing five minutes until the train departs.

“Right, time for you to go then. Write to us, okay?” Lily said as they pulled the seventeen-year-old into last hugs.

“Don't worry mum, I will.”

“I snuck the cloak and the map into your truck when your mum wasn't looking,” James whispered into Harry's ear during his hug. “Now, you better behave young man.” He said a bit louder.

“Yes sir.” Harry grinned. He was going to miss his parents. During his apprenticeship, he saw them once a month at least, that was a part of their deal with Rowan. At Hogwarts, he wouldn't see them until Christmas and that was months away.

James helped Harry put his trunk and owl (a beautiful snowy owl called Hedwig) onto the train and into a nearby free compartment. The train left soon enough though, and Harry found himself waving at his parents from the window until he could no longer see them.

Sighing, he fell onto the plush seat of the compartment, sharing a look with Hedwig. She hooted at him, unhappy to be in a cage. She was usually left to roam free when she wasn't flying back and forth between countries with correspondence. Hedwig was the most durable owl he knew and he was proud to call her his familiar.

“I know Hedwig, I'll let you out once we get to Hogwarts. You've never been there before so I didn't want you to fly and get lost.” Harry said to her. She hooted at him again, ruffling her feathers. It was clear that she was offended at that statement – she could find anyone or anyplace with ease, even if she has never been there before.

The truth was, Harry kept her around because he didn't want to travel completely alone. Hedwig seemed to know that, as she flapped her wings and nibbled on the lock to her cage with her beak.

“Stay with me though, alright?” Harry asked her as he opened the cage. She flew onto his arm, letting him stroke her feathers with familiar ease. He knew exactly where to scratch her to make her forgive him the previous statement.

“I hope I'm forgiven.” Harry smiled at her, scratching her just above her eyes. She blinked her huge eyes slowly, as if she was agreeing with him.

“You should really keep any pets in their cages until we arrive at Hogwarts.”

Harry looked up, he didn't close the compartment door and didn't notice when someone arrived at it. It was a girl about his age, already dressed in a uniform trimmed with red. She had a badge pinned to her robe, which said 'Head Girl' in neat print. Her most prominent feature was the bushy brown hair that she kept long, probably to weigh it down and in an attempt to contain the frizz.

“Hedwig prefers to be out of her cage.” Harry said to her. She frowned at him.

“She can attack someone else's pet.” She said. “You're too old to be a first year, but I don't know you.”

“I have faith that Hedwig will be well behaved and won't eat anyone else's pet, right girl?” He smiled at the owl, who hooted back. “I'm going to be in seventh year actually.”

The girl pursed her lips, but decided not to argue about the owl matter any longer. “Just keep an eye on her. I'm a seventh year as well, how come I have never seen you? I'm Hermione Granger by the way, Head Girl.”

“I was under an apprenticeship before this, but I need to take my NEWTs before I finish my Mastery.” Harry explained. “I'm Harry Potter, pleased to meet you.”

Hermione's eyes widened momentarily. “You're the Boy-Who-Lived!” She exclaimed rather loudly, before shutting her mouth and blushing at her sudden heightened volume.

“I'd prefer if you just called me Harry,” He grinned at her.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said it like that.” Hermione apologised. “It's just I've read a lot about you, I never thought I'd meet you since you didn't come to Hogwarts when you were meant to.”

Harry shrugged. “I never really liked school, I'm only here because the Ministry won't let me take my NEWTs without this year. An apprenticeship suited me more.”

“I wasn't aware the Wizarding World had apprenticeship programmes.” Hermione admitted. “Do you mind if I sit down for a while? I'd like to know more about it, if you don't mind.”

“All the seats are free, help yourself.”

The witch sat down quickly, straightening out her skirt once seated. She looked at him, eyes shining with interest.

“So how did you get an apprenticeship? Like I said, I wasn't aware they existed.” Hermione continued talking, her voice gaining speed with every word. “I know there's some in the muggle world, but you need at least secondary school to get them and from what you said I presume you started at eleven – “

“Whoa, slow down there Hermione.” Harry interrupted her. She blushed again from embarrassment and mumbled an apology. “It's fine, but I feel like you won't learn much if can't get my word in to answer your questions.”

The girl nodded, smiling. She felt at ease talking to him.

“Well, apprenticeships are rare in Britain. In Europe and on other continents they're much more common. I knew from when my mum sent me to Little Wizards School for a year to meet some children my age that I didn't want to go to school and I researched other options. A lot of people start their apprenticeships after they're seventeen, but some professions prefer to teach someone from when they're young. It saves on making them unlearn some things from school.”

“That sounds fascinating, what did you apprentice in, if you don't mind me asking?”

“Officially it's Curse Breaking.” Harry said. “But really it's Treasure Hunting. Curse Breaking is the biggest part of it and the official Mastery I'd get though.”

Hermione nodded, processing the information. She frowned as she thought. “If you're doing an apprenticeship though, shouldn't you be able to just do your Mastery straight away?”

Harry nodded, pulling a face. “Yeah that's how it worked up until like – four years ago I want to say? The Ministry decided that you have to have OWLs and NEWTs passed before you can do Mastery exams. Which sucks, because now I have to do a year of school that I wouldn't have to do before.”

“I understand where the Ministry is coming from though.” Hermione admitted.

“Yeah, but it's ruining my plans. I was meant to be in Peru right now with an expedition to Norte Chico, not playing school just because the Ministry wants me to.” Harry whined. It was surprising how easy he found it to speak to Hermione. All the Treasure Hunters he knew were older than him. He rarely spoke to anyone his age, really only when someone's child came to visit and even then they ranged in age from ten year olds to twenty-somethings. To be able to speak to the girl this easily was surprising, but not unwelcome.

“Peru is a beautiful place, it's a shame you're missing out on it.”

“They're holding the expedition up until I finish my NEWTs, but it bugs me that I could be preparing for it right now.”

“I'm sure you'll enjoy Hogwarts. The castle looks beautiful, as you'll soon find out.” Hermione said. “It's absolutely fascinating as well, have you read _Hogwarts: A History_?”

“I haven't yet, no. Mum gave it to me as a goodbye gift though so I'll look at it soon. You really like that word though, don't you?”

Hermione looked at him confused. “What word?”

“Fascinating.” He grinned cheekily.

“Harry Potter, don't you make fun of me.” She frowned.

“I'm not, I swear.” He laughed. “You just sound like everything is fascinating to you, Hermione. Isn't that just _fascinating_?”

She punched him in the arm.

…

Well what did you know, Hogwarts _did_ look beautiful and fascinating.

Hermione left soon enough, panicking that she was neglecting her Head Girl duties and apologising profusely for leaving him on his own. Harry didn't mind and said they'll have more time to talk once they get to Hogwarts. He pulled out his copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ and let Hedwig rest on his shoulder while he flipped through the pages until the train was a few minutes away from Hogsmeade, when he changed into the still plain black uniform.

Harry put Hedwig back into her cage, knowing that she'll be transported to the owlery soon enough and said goodbye to her. He then got off the train and took a few minutes to stare at the view while on the platform.

The view of Hogwarts was breath taking. It was ancient, but strong and almost illuminated with magic. Harry's treasure hunter instincts were telling him that the castle had many secrets and he'd be damned if he didn't at least try to uncover them.

“Harry!”

He turned around towards the voice calling out his name. It was Hermione, pushing through the crowd towards him. She was accompanied by another boy, who had a neutral look on his face.

“Hey Hermione, fancy seeing you here.”

“Did you get told what to do when you're on the platform? Are you taking the boats with the first years or the carriages?” Hermione started asking, looking a little worried.

“Granger calm yourself, he's not a scared and lost first year.” The boy next to her drawled. There was a hint of amusement in his voice.

Hermione glared at him. “I'm just trying to help.”

“Don't worry Hermione, I'm supposed to take the carriages and someone's meeting me in the Entrance Hall. Something tells me that the boats are a little small for me.”

“Merlin knows they fit Hagrid, so I don't think they're too small for anyone.” The still nameless boy muttered.

“Regardless, I'm glad you know what you're doing.” Hermione said, ignoring her companion's comment. “Do you want to ride a carriage with us then? We don't have any duties until after the feast now.”

“I'd like to.” Harry said. It was nice to know he wouldn't be lonely at Hogwarts and that the friend he made was a decent person. His dad used to say to him that Hogwarts always had a fair few prats and he was glad that he hasn't met one yet.

“I'm Harry Potter, by the way.” He said to the boy next to Hermione and extended his hand, who was wearing a 'Head Boy' badge pinned to his chest.

The boy took it, nodding with a small smile. “Draco Malfoy, pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Harry replied. His father's words were ringing in his years, of how Slytherins were slimy (Draco's robes were trimmed with green) and how Malfoys were prats second only to Snivellus. Draco seemed nice enough so far though, and Harry decided to go with Lily's advice of judging someone by their actions rather than their house and name.

“Right, can we go now? I don't want to be _late._ ” Hermione shifted, pulling on both boys' robes to get them to move.

“Granger, we're not going to be late. Knowing you, we'll be way too early and will have to wait for a long time for the feast to start.” Draco said to her, but moved regardless. “Also, I wouldn't mind missing the sorting, it's a little boring after seeing it for five years.”

“Don't be rude, you can't miss the sorting.” Hermione huffed. “Plus, Harry has to be sorted as well.”

“I'm apparently going first.” Harry complained and pulled a face. “How do we get sorted anyway? My parents refused to tell me, it's irritating.”

“Well – “ Draco started to say, but Hermione cut him off.

“Malfoy don't tell him! It's meant to be a surprise.”

Harry rolled his eyes, as did Draco. “I'm not eleven, Hermione. The magic of Hogwarts won't be spoiled by knowing how I'm getting sorted.” Harry said to her.

“See? It's perfectly all right to tell him.” Hermione didn't seem to agree, but stayed silent. “You get sorted with a hat.”

“A hat?”

“Yes, a hat.” Draco smirked.

“You're pulling my leg.” Harry said flatly.

“I assure you, that I am not.” The blonde wizard continued to smirk.

“How the _fuck_ is a hat going to sort me?”

“Language, Harry!”

“Sorry Hermione. No, but seriously, how in the world is that going to happen?”

“Magic, Potter.” Draco said. “Pure and simple magic.”

…

When they arrived, the Head Boy and Girl said goodbye to Harry and wished him luck. They left for the Great Hall to sit at their respective house tables. Harry was left alone in the Entrance Hall, still refusing to believe what Draco said to him. The boy must be pulling his leg, a hat just sounded so stupid.

He wasn't left alone long, as an extremely short elderly wizard approached him. He introduced himself as Professor Flitwick and ushered him into a small chamber next to the Great Hall.

“I knew both of your parents, Mr Potter. Very talented individuals; yes, yes. I'm looking forward to having you in my class, I'll be your Charms professor.” Professor Flitwick said to him. Harry assured him that he was looking forward to his class as well, even if that was only partially true. Learning new magic? Great. Having to sit in silence for an hour as someone talked _at_ him and got them to read a text book? Not so much.

Professor Flitwick lead him to where the first years were waiting to be lead into the Great Hall. Suddenly, Harry felt like a giant – literally everyone (even the teacher!) was significantly shorter than him. The first years looked nervous and some even looked frightened and for some reason his presence made it even worse.

The Charms professor quickly explained to everyone each of the houses and the order of how they'll get sorted (“You'll get called first, Mr Potter and then everyone else in alphabetical order. Just come up to the front, you'll understand what to do once we get there.”). Some of the first years squealed when Flitwick mentioned his name and spoke in excited hushed whispers.

Quite frankly, Harry felt stupid when he walked into the Hall. He led the first years right between the two middle tables, just a few steps between Flitwick. They were walking towards a stool with a hat on it.

He found Draco in the crowd and the blonde was sniggering. Harry blushed, knowing exactly what he was laughing at. He glared at the Head Boy, who just found it all the more amusing.

“When I call your name, come up to the front and put on the Sorting Hat. It will sort you into your house for the next seven years.” Flitwick said. “However, first, I believe the Sorting Hat will sing its song.”

Harry had to stop himself from blatantly gaping when the old hat on the stool opened its – mouth? – and sang about unity and the four Founders of Hogwarts. When the initial shock wore off, his brain started to appreciate the Sorting Hat for what it was – an amazing ancient artefact.

The fact that it was made by the Founders (the song said so) and its magic was still working perfectly as far as everyone was concerned was unique and a show of unimaginable magical power from the caster.

A part of Harry really, _really_ wanted it.

He was shook from his musings when his name was called up and people started to whisper. Harry tried to ignore the stares and moved forward. When he sat down, he caught Hermione giving him thumbs up.

“ _Ah Mr Potter, you're a few years late aren't you?”_ Harry froze. It _spoke?_ This hat was far more amazing than he thought. _“Why thank you, I haven't heard such compliments in years. Now, let's get to business, where shall I put you, hmm?”_

Really, Harry had no preference. Draco was in Slytherin and he seemed like a decent bloke, so clearly the house wasn't so bad. Plus, Lily would smite him if he started to judge people by their house rather than their personalities. Both his parents were in Gryffindor and so was Hermione, so he was sure he'd enjoy himself there. He hasn't met anyone currently at Hogwarts that was a Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff yet, but the few alumni of those houses came across were nice. Rowan was a Ravenclaw, which Harry always found amusing as Rowan's mother named him after the founder of the house in hope of it influencing Rowan to have some sense in him as he grew up.

_“No preference? That's rare coming from those who are not muggleborn...but your mother is a smart witch who didn't like the house rivalry, did she? I see, you have some very good values, Mr Potter. You're very hard working, aren't you? However, I don't see you gaining your full potential in Helga's house. Perhaps Slytherin or Ravenclaw? You're certainly intelligent enough for Ravenclaw and your ambition and resourcefulness are not to be questioned...Although, your dreams of Treasure Hunting require a certain bravery and sheer daring, perhaps you'll find yourself most at home among the lions...”_

Harry fidgeted in his seat, he just wanted to have this sorting be over and done with. He felt like he was sat on the stool for what seemed like forever and did not like the way everyone was starting at him and whispering still.

_“You certainly won't let your house affect your friendships, Mr Potter. I wish you luck in your new house, it better be_ GRYFFINDOR! _”_

The Great Hall erupted in cheers. Harry took off the hat hastily, not noticing when his robes magically became trimmed red and walked towards the Gryffindor table, which was cheering the loudest out of the entire Hall. Harry sat down next to Hermione, who hugged him out of excitement and congratulated him.

Harry turned around to look at Draco sat at the Slytherin table, who was clapping politely and wouldn't let his thoughts show on his face. Harry smiled at him and nodded in greeting, which the young Malfoy returned. Harry then turned back to the front of the Hall, to watch the first years get sorted.

The rest of the sorting was tedious and boring and when the last first year was sorted into Ravenclaw, Harry couldn't be happier. He was getting hungry and a hungry Harry wasn't the best company.

From the front table, a witch stood up as Flitwick took the hat and stool away. She was elderly and looked stern, but fair and dressed in heavy dark green robes. She was sat in the middle of the table, in the Headmaster's seat.

“I would like to welcome our new students to Hogwarts and welcome back all those returning.” She spoke loudly and clearly, but with a hint of a Scottish accent. “For those who don't know me, I am Professor McGonagall, your Headmistress.

“Before we begin the feast, I have a few announcements. Firstly, I would like to remind you that the Forbidden Forest remains forbidden to all students. Mr Filch would like me to remind you that there have been a few items from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes added to the list of forbidden items. If you would like to see the full list, Mr Filch would be glad to inform you and you can see him in his office.

“Now onto further announcements, I would like to welcome Professor Quirrell to his seventh year as our Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. He still holds the record for holding this position for the longest time in over half a century. May he stay with us for longer. Professor Malcolm McGonagall will be the new Head of Gryffindor after Professor Kettleburn's retirement last year. We wish Professor Kettleburn a happy retirement and for him to keep the remainder of his limbs. He will be replaced by Professor Grubbly-Plank as our new Care of Magical Creatures professor.

“Now without further ado, I hope you all will enjoy the next year at Hogwarts and learn many new things. Let us proceed with the feast.”

The food appeared on the tables before the elderly Headmistress sat down. Harry couldn't be happier and immediately started to load his plate with the steaming hot dishes. Besides him, Hermione did much the same, although a little slower.

“I'm glad you got into Gryffindor, Harry. I wouldn't hear the end of it from Malfoy if you got into Slytherin.” Hermione said to him.

Harry shrugged. “What would it matter? A house is a house. I'd still be friends with you if I was in any of the other three.”

Hermione smiled brightly at him. “I know, but Malfoy likes to brag. A lot. Plus, having the Boy-Who-Lived in Slytherin would cause an uproar.”

“Well now you can brag to him,” Harry winked playfully. “But I don't know how it would matter if I was in Slytherin. It's not a bad house.”

“Are you _sure_ you're the son of James Potter?”

Harry turned around and saw a redheaded, lanky boy talking to him. “What do you mean?” Harry asked him, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

“Well it's just James Potter is known for being a Gryffindor fanatic. And Gryffindor and Slytherin have this rivalry, obviously.“ The boy shrugged. “My parents know your dad from Hogwarts, I think my dad was a few years older though.”

“Yeah dad is big on Gryffindor, but if mum heard I was taking part in this rivalry on any matter besides some friendly Quidditch competition, she'd skin me alive. Her best friend is a Slytherin.” Harry explained.

The boy rolled his eyes. “Women.” He muttered. “I'm Ron Weasley, by the way.”

“Harry Potter. Nice to meet you.”

Soon enough Harry was introduced to the rest of his year, both boys and the girls. He was also introduced to Ron's sister Ginny who looked petrified when he said hello to her. Harry got along with them easily, most of them having a boisterous personality.

Neville didn't, he was rather quiet, but seemed rather confident. Hermione whispered to Harry that Neville used to be really shy and unsure of himself, but over the years he got more confident with the help of his housemates. Hearing that made Harry happy, it was good that they all looked out for each other.

“Hey Hermione, how come you and Draco call each other by your surnames?” Harry asked when the feast was nearing its end. The question was bugging him since he first met the two.

“Habit I guess,” Hermione admitted. “We used to hate each other up until fourth year. Now I think it works a little like a nickname I think.”

“Hermione's still the only one who can stand Malfoy for longer than five minutes though.” Ron chipped in, mouth full of food as he spoke. The result was that Harry really had to think hard to decipher what Ron was saying.

Hermione looked at the ginger boy with distaste. “Don't eat while speaking, Ronald.” She scolded him. “And I'm sure you'd like each other if you just tried to talk to him.”

“Yeah I'm sure I'd like him if he wasn't such a _git._ ”

The two argued over it for a while, before Harry sighed and decided to break it off before Hermione cursed Ron.

“Hermione, what happened in fourth year that made you and Malfoy stop hating each other?” He asked.

Hermione fell silent and gave him a wicked grin, and suddenly Harry didn't want to know.


	2. Murtlap

Harry woke up missing his tent and the view of sand dunes. His large, heavily draped bed in Gryffindor tower was soft and plush, but Harry found himself wanting the thin mattress of the bed in the tent he spent the past six years in. He felt suffocated by the multitude of pillows and blankets, which he kicked off during the night.

It wasn't the best sleep he's ever gotten.

There was a heartache he didn't notice last night. It was the same one that he got when he was eleven and left for Cairo for the first time – homesickness, he remembered. Hogwarts was a new place, a place he didn't really belong in.

He opened his eyes and breathed in deeply. It was only a year. A year and then he would be back to the sun glares and unbearable heat or whatever weather Peru happened to have. He really ought to research the country more thoroughly to prepare for next year.

Getting out of bed in the morning was not difficult when the bed felt wrong. He fell out of bed and got ready for the day rather fast. His toothbrush was already in the bathroom when he got there last night, the elves probably took care of little details like that. Hedwig was in the owlery, her empty cage sitting by Harry’s bed.

It was early when he got up and the dorm was silent. All the other boys were still sleeping, probably not going to wake for another hour. Harry's internal clock was used to an early rise, even earlier than that. Rowan didn't like lazy people and wanted to get as many hours of work done as possible before the sun's rays became too strong.

Harry dressed in his uniform, struggling with the tie. He never wore a tie before. He really ought to ask someone if they could show him how to do it. Harry decided to just drape it over his neck for breakfast, considering asking Ron or Hermione to help him do it once they get up.

Hogwarts felt lonely when one walked the corridors by themselves. Especially in the early hours of the morning, when not many of its occupants were awake, it felt like no one else in the world existed. The corridors were empty, echoing Harry's footsteps as he walked. Even some of the portraits were still asleep.

Harry didn't like it at all, he only ever was alone when he took a wrong turn in a labyrinth of paths during an expedition. Even that usually did not bode well: being a lonely treasure hunter may sound good when one thought of the treasure, but there was a reason they usually worked with someone – the dangers of getting _to_ the treasure.

When he got to the Great Hall, not many people were there, but there were some. He wasn't the only early riser in the castle. Harry noticed Professor Quirrell at the teacher's table, busying himself by reading a thick book while stirring a beverage. The man looked focused and confident, even if he looked too thin and pale. He was not wearing the turban he wore at the feast. Harry wondered if the head attire was only for special occasions.

There was no one at the Gryffindor table yet, besides a girl that looked like a Second or maybe a Third year. Ravenclaw had about five, scattered across the table and buried in books. One was writing furiously with one hand and trying to eat porridge with the other. Hufflepuff had three, sat close together and chatting regardless of their clear age difference.

Slytherin had two, one being Draco Malfoy.

Harry didn't feel like eating breakfast alone and it was clear that none of the Gryffindors he knew would arrive anytime soon. Draco was sat alone as well, the only other Slytherin sat quite a way from him. Harry decided that he might as well sit with the Head Boy.

Harry slipped into the seat to the right of Draco, who was reading a piece of parchment. He eyed Harry, who cheerfully said good morning to him, and raised an eyebrow.

“I'm not sure if you're aware, but this is the Slytherin table.” Draco stated, slipping the parchment into his robe.

“I am well aware of that fact; don't I get a good morning?” Harry decided that he was feeling like a full English breakfast and started to load his plate.

“Good Morning,” Draco muttered. “If you're aware of it, then why are you sat here?”

Harry shrugged, biting a piece of toast. “As you can see there is no one on the Gryffindor table that I know.” He motioned to the deserted table. “I know you though and I was assuming from yesterday that we could try be friends. There's no rules that stop me from sitting here, right?”

“As far as I'm aware, there is no rules prohibiting eating breakfast at a different house table.” Draco said. “You baffle me though, you still want to be friends after you got into Gryffindor?”

“My mum raised me to stand above petty rivalry.” Harry replied. “And you're friends with Hermione, so what's the big deal?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “That's different.” He said.

“How's so?” Harry asked. “Actually, there's something I want to know. _How_ did you become friends with her? When I asked her she just got this creepy look on her face.”

“She punched me in the face and broke my nose in fourth year.”

“Oh,” Harry blinked owlishly. “Oh, okay.”

“Yep,” Draco winced, but smiled at Harry. “Whatever you do, don't get her angry and avoid her right hook.”

“I'll take note of that.” Harry said sincerely. He mentally made a point of moving Hermione to the top of the list of people he never wanted to be enemies with.

“Why are you up so early anyway?”

“I'm an early riser, comes with the trade really.” Harry said.

“Wait, what trade? Also, why did you just start Hogwarts?” Draco asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

“I apprenticed in Treasure Hunting. Well, officially Cure Breaking, but with that you're either a Treasure Hunter or you work for Gringotts.” Harry explained. “The Ministry wants me to do a year of school before they let me take my NEWTs, which is stupid and unnecessary and I wish they never changed the Mastery laws.”

“Ah, that explains it.” Draco nodded, understanding. “You know, a lot of people found it shocking that the Boy Who Lived didn't come to Hogwarts.”

“Don't I know it.” Harry laughed. “My parents were probably at the top of that list, I thought my mum was going to have kittens when I told her I refuse to go.”

Draco laughed at that and started to eat his breakfast. Both boys spoke casually while they were eating and then spoke some more when they were full and just waiting for the Hall to fill up. It was then that Draco noticed the state of Harry’s uniform.

“You really ought to tie that before classes start, teachers and prefects can take points form you for your uniform.” Draco commented, tugging lightly on the tie around Harry’s neck.

“Easier said than done, I’ve never tied a tie before.” Harry muttered, looking away and blushing lightly.

“Seriously? Merlin, you’re _seventeen_.”

“I never needed to! It’s not like mummies care whether I wore a tie!” The Gryffindor defended himself.

Draco rolled his eyes. “That’s no excuse.” He said. “Shift a bit, I’ll teach you how to do it before Gryffindor loses all its points because of your dress code.”

“One would think you’d want that to happen.”

“Slytherin will win regardless, you are no competition.” Draco noted while talking Harry’s tie in his hands. “Now pay attention, so I don’t have to repeat myself.”

Harry made choking sounds when the blonde finished tying the tie. “That’s way too tight.” He tugged on it, loosening it.

“Stop being such a wuss, it’s just a tie.”

“I can’t breathe because of it.”

“Sure you can, suck it up and get used to it.” Draco pulled the tie even tighter than before.

Harry pouted. “You’re cruel.”

“What else is new?” Draco rolled his eyes. “How come your tie was fine yesterday if you don’t know how to do it?”

Harry grinned. “It came pre-tied, I just undid it completely yesterday by accident.”

The two joked for a few moments more, mostly at Harry’s expense. When the Slytherin table started to get busy, Harry said goodbye to Draco and walked back to the Gryffindors.

“Why were you at the Slytherin table?” Ron asked immediately when Harry sat down. “Actually, where were you this morning? You weren't there when everyone woke up.”

“I'm used to having a really early start.” Harry explained. “I was sat with Draco, there was no one at the table when I got here so I thought I'd go talk to him.”

Ron mumbled something about fraternizing with the enemy, but Hermione heard him and hit him with the book she was holding. Everyone that saw it winced, seeing how big the tome was.

“There is nothing wrong with Malfoy, Ronald.” Hermione chided.

“Yeah except he's a _Slytherin_ and his dad was a Death Eater –“ Ron continued, massaging where the book hit him on the head. Hermione didn't waste any time to hit him again, harder.

“I told you, the mistakes of the parents are not the mistakes of their children! His father also paid for his crimes already, so there is absolutely no reason for you to use that against him.” Hermione hissed at the redhead. “Get it through that thick skull of yours.”

Ron shrunk in his seat, mumbling an apology, and deciding to stuff his face with food in fear that he was going to say something else if his mouth wasn't occupied. Hermione complained that it wasn't her that he should be apologising to, but dropped the matter quickly.

“Harry, I actually wanted to ask you, what classes are you taking for your NEWTs?” The bushy haired Head Girl asked.

“Or course you’d ask about classes so early…” Ron muttered into his food, hoping it was quiet enough for Hermione not to hear. She did though, but only shot him a look that time.

“Right, hang on let's see if I remember all of them. Charms, Astronomy, Defence Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic, Potions, Transfiguration, Arithmancy and Ancient Runes? I think that's it.”

“Blimey, you're taking as many as Hermione!” Ron gaped.

“Actually, I think you have one more class than me.” Hermione pointed out, mentally checking off her own subjects.

“Rowan, my Master, taught me all of those as well as Herbology. I have an OWL in that, but he didn't expect me to do it at NEWT level. I guess he just wanted me to be well prepared.” Harry said.

“Cure Breaking is a demanding Mastery.” Hermione mentioned.

“Don't I know it,” Harry sighed, remembering the six years of treasure hunting. He loved it and enjoyed learning, but he didn't fool himself into thinking it was easy.

“My brother does that! He works for Gringotts as a Curse Breaker.” Ron said excitedly. “You're learning to do that?”

“Mate,” Harry grinned. “I have been doing that. I'm more of a hands-on learner, you could say.”

Harry and Ron, with input from Hermione at some points, spent the rest of the time talking about Curse Breaking. Ron told stories Bill told him of the pyramids and mentioned how he got a tour of some when he visited Egypt a few years back. Harry listened, enjoying the conversation, and mentioning some of the stuff he found while he and Rowan were exploring places other than Egypt.

Professor McGonagall, the male one, made his way down the Gryffindor table to give out timetables. It was only when he got to the seventh years sitting together that Harry and Ron stopped talking.

The teacher didn't talk much when giving out timetables, only saying an offhand comment every now and then. When giving Harry his timetable, he had to double check it.

“That's a quite packed schedule there, Mr Potter.” The Professor said, handing it to him. It was true, he didn't really have any free periods and it looked even more packed than Hermione's. Ron and Neville's timetables looked heavenly in comparison, with just enough free periods for the boys not to get overworked.

“They’re kind of needed,” Harry shrugged in response.

“I understand,” The Head of Gryffindor said. “Be careful not to overwork yourself. Miss Granger has some fantastic organisation plans for studying, so see her if you’re struggling. I will see you all in class.”

Hermione blushed prettily at the compliment, squeaking out a ‘thank you’ at the Professor before he moved on.

…

Harry’s first class was History of Magic, which he shared with Hermione. It took less than a quarter of an hour for Harry to start fidgeting in his seat. Hermione elbowed him in the ribs soon enough, whispering to him to write his notes, because she refused to share hers. (“This is the first class of the year, Harry! _Pay attention._ )

He did not mind, Binns was droning on about Goblin Wars, which was mostly in the text book. Whatever wasn’t, he could find in other books or could sneak a look at Hermione’s notes when she wasn’t looking. Also, he knew most of it already, even if he couldn’t recite it word-for-word, if asked. He went through the material last year as Rowan made him do so, he could pass the NEWT with an Acceptable at least if he just refreshed his memory before the exam.

The class was pointless and not stimulating at all. Binns was a _ghost_ of all things and not a very good teacher at all. He floated in at the start of the class and started to speak with a voice that was so monotone that it put most of the class to sleep. The few that were awake were reading something completely unrelated, finishing their summer assignments last minute, or they were Hermione.

The girl seemed to be immune to Binns’ voice and kept writing notes like her life depended on it. Beside her, Harry contemplated faking illness to get out of class.

Out of the window Harry saw the sun and the lush green grounds. He was itching to be outside, or exploring the castle, or back in Cairo. The classroom felt stuffy and crowded with too many desks and not enough students behind them. The summer warmth was still apparent in early September and it made for uncomfortable air in the locked classroom as no windows or doors were open.

Harry tried to read his text book rather than listen to Binns, if only not to have to catch up on the material later, but it felt impossible. The text book sounded like Binns himself wrote it. Harry could only hope that his other classes were at least slightly different, because he could feel himself accepting being an apprentice forever and running out of Hogwarts before the day was over.

By the end of the class, Harry had his head on the table and was letting out a sound that could only be compared to the moans of a ghost combined with a strangled cat. Hermione shot him disapproving looks up until they were allowed to pack their things and leave.

Harry was the first out of the class, unsurprisingly. He was bored out of his skull and felt tired, even if he spent a whole class doing nothing. Sometimes doing nothing tired him out more than manual labour. Hermione was quick to follow him out of the classroom.

“I’m not helping you if you have problems in History of Magic,” Hermione huffed as they walked to Transfiguration together. They met Ron, Neville and Seamus on the way, who had a free period first and saw Draco standing outside of the classroom with a female Slytherin with a short bob haircut and a dark skinned Slytherin boy.

“Sure you won’t,” Harry winked at her jokingly. “It’s just so boring though Hermione, History is meant to be exciting.”

“History? Exciting? Mate have you hit your head?” Ron asked.

“History is exciting. It’s part of why I love Treasure Hunting so much. The way of life a few hundred or thousand years back is so different from how we live now, it’s fascinating. We find a lot of scrolls and books with the treasure and that knowledge is more valuable than most of the gold and diamonds.” Harry explained, passion clear in his voice. “I mean, I bet Bill told you some of what the Ancient Egyptian wizards could do, how awesome is that? Or the wizards that worked for the Japanese Emperors, they could so some really wicked stuff. It’s all a part of history, but it seems that all Britain cares about is the Goblin Wars.”

Ron shrugged. “Fair enough, I get what you mean. Learning it is boring though, I’m so glad I failed my OWL in it so I don’t have to listen to Binns anymore.”

“I can agree on the Binns part of it.” Harry smiled.

“Regardless, boys – especially you Harry – it’s a class and you have to at least try to make effort in it if you want to pass.”

“I’ll be fine,” Harry waved off her concern easily.

They were called into the classroom soon enough and Harry’s group were one of the last to enter (except Hermione, who almost ran in to get a seat at the very front). Neville went to join Hermione at the front, while Ron and Seamus sat together. Harry took a seat at the table next to theirs, which was occupied by the Slytherin girl who spoke to Draco before class. The latter boy and his male companion were sat right in front of them.

“Hey,” Harry greeted the girl, whose eyebrows shot up in surprise. She was rather average looking, but clearly took care of her appearance. Her hair was in an immaculate short bob and she carefully applied make up to her face. “You don’t mind me sitting here, do you?”

“No,” She replied.

“Great,” Harry smiled at her. “I’m Harry Potter, by the way.”

“I know,” She said. “Pansy Parkinson.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Professor McGonagall took that moment to start the class. He introduced himself and gave a short speech on expecting hard work and good results from them. He mentioned that he offers extra lessons in the evenings, more frequently closer to the exams, if anyone was struggling.

“Transfiguration is a demanding subject as you all know and it’s very easy to fall behind if you are not careful. You can see me any time after class if you feel like you need to, I am here if you require the extra help. Last year you got a taste of what NEWT level Transfiguration is, this year will be just as – if not more – difficult.”

He went through the syllabus for the year briefly and elaborated a bit more on the lesson plans for the coming weeks. Half of each class would be spent on theory and the other half on practicing spells. They would be having tests every two weeks to test their knowledge as they go and identify anything they needed more work on. Professor McGonagall seemed like a fair and strict teacher, much like his older sister, the Headmistress.

“Potter, will you stop fidgeting?” Pansy hissed to him as McGonagall started the actual theory part of the class.

“Sorry,” Harry muttered. He couldn’t help it, he hasn’t been in a classroom environment since he was ten and in Little Wizards School while his parents worked. Even then, that was nothing in comparison to actual Hogwarts classes. He used to have a hard-enough time when he was younger.

Harry tried his best to concentrate on what Professor McGonagall was saying. It was a little easier than with Binns, McGonagall was a rather good public speaker. Harry was still itching to do some practical work though.

By the end of the lecture, Professor McGonagall kept shooting him warning looks when he kept tapping on the table with his quill. There were many doodles on his parchment and actual notes were few and far between. Pansy’s notes were concise and neat and she stared at his parchment with a mixture of surprise and disgust before he managed to put it away.

The Professor announced that they were going to spend a good part of the first half of the term practising Free Transfiguration, which Harry could do, although he was not very confident in it. Sometimes it still failed. He was glad that Rowan forced him through all the material he’d learn at Hogwarts, including seventh year stuff. It meant that his classes could go a little easier.

Maybe he really would get to relax this year. Or die of boredom during lectures.

“This class I want you to try and transfigure your chalices into two different, small animals of your choice. I repeat: _small_ animals. Anything that will not fit on your desk will make you serve a detention.”

Harry stared at the chalice in front of him and immediately his mind went off, countless ideas being listed off in his thoughts. He could turn the chalice into a rat, or a bird or maybe something more exotic – perhaps he could try transfiguring it into a magical creature. He couldn’t remember the rules of transfiguration on magical creatures off the top of his head.

Well, it was worth a try.

Harry tapped the chalice, muttering the Free Transformation universal spell as he visualised his creature and watched it change.

A very, very regular rat slowly transfigured in front of him and squeaked.

Harry frowned.

“Don’t look so disappointed.” Pansy said from beside him, her own attempt at casting the spell doing absolutely nothing to the chalice.

“It was meant to be a Murtlap.”

“A what now?” The girl frowned.

“Murtlap. Looks like a rat, has this growth on its back? I’m not sure why it didn’t work.”

Pansy shrugged and went back to her own spellcasting. “Maybe it’s beyond the spell’s limitations.” She said.

“It’s a Free Transformation spell though – universal spell and everything, yeah? It’s not meant to have limitations.” Harry said.

“All spells have limitations, Mr Potter.” Professor McGonagall walked up to their table. Harry frowned.

“Even this one?”

McGonagall nodded. “Even this one.” He repeated. “Magic is unlimited, but as long as you use spells, they will have limitations. I’m not speaking of wordless magic. There was a time when we didn’t use spells, but instead cast magic with a mere thought. Ideas came to life. Spells put magic in a box, if you will.”

“Why did we start using spells then?” The dark skinned Slytherin sat in front asked the Professor. The whole class started to listen in on the conversation.

“It became easier. Not using spells is more challenging than even wandless and wordless casting. You must understand that you and magic are in harmony, you borrow from each other and support each other. With spells, it is easier to communicate to magic what it is what you wish to do.” Professor McGonagall spoke. “With no spells, it is much harder for you to communicate. However, whatever you do, remember that you cannot force it to do anything. It has chosen you to be able to borrow from it. You cannot conquer magic, it is impossible. Magic is all around us and within us. If you ever tried to conquer it, it would consume you and destroy you.”

The class was silent, thoughtful. Harry stared at his teacher in awe.

“However, Mr Potter, with this particular spell you can transfigure items into _some_ magical creatures. Those with weaker magic, certainly not a dragon. It takes near-perfect control though.” Professor McGonagall pulled out his wand and tapped Harry’s chalice and it turned into a squeaking Murtlap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playing with some magical theory in this one. I do enjoy writing more on how magic works, beyond what J.K. Rowling revealed to us.  
> Again, feedback is appreciated!


	3. Hogwarts: A History

Harry left Transfiguration with much to think about. When the class ended, his chalice was still very much a rat (Harry swore that the fur on its back was slightly thicker and slicker, but Pansy just rolled her eyes at him). Although he performed the spell and the reversal more times than anyone else in the class, it was Hermione and Draco that actually completed the task first and turned their chalices into two different animals. Professor McGonagall awarded ten points to both Slytherin and Gryffindor as he couldn’t tell who was first, whilst Harry didn’t even notice it happening. When the bell rang for the end of the class, he was still furiously transfiguring and it took the combined efforts of both Pansy and Hermione to break him out of his concentration.

“Honestly Harry, you need to pay more attention.” Hermione hissed during the next class, which happened to be Ancient Runes. Harry cared very little about the class going on around him, choosing to keep transfiguring under his desk. Since the chalice remained in Transfiguration, he took a scrap piece of parchment and was attempting to make it into a fairy. He figured their magic should be weak enough for the spell to work.

What he kept getting instead was a dragonfly.

Harry didn’t really hear Hermione whispering complaints to him. He hummed at the noise coming from her every so often, which just made her want to elbow him in the ribs. Meanwhile, Harry was getting more and more frustrated with the spell, as he didn’t understand what he was doing wrong. The spell was clearly working, just not how he wanted it to.

Eventually, Hermione elbowed him discreetly. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but stop practising. You can do that later.” She whispered. Harry glared at her.

It wasn’t just Hermione that was getting miffed with Harry. Professor Babbling was used to her NEWT students being incredibly attentive as it was an elective they cared about. Having Harry not listening and disturbing the lesson ever so slightly irritated the woman.

“Mr Potter, can you name these runes?” Professor Babbling’s voice carried clearly through the otherwise silent classroom. She was glaring at Harry and Hermione, with the latter girl blushing a deep red shade and lowering her head. Harry blinked owlishly and looked up at the board to which Professor Babbling was pointing to. It had two runes on it, which looked rather similar to each other.

“Left is Thurisaz and the right is Wunjo.” Harry said quickly.

“Very good.” The professor pursed her lips, but nodded. “Two points.”

Hermione glared at Harry, who just grinned at her cheekily. The Runic Alphabet was an easy thing for him, it was one of the first things he learnt. The Ancient Runes class was just a formality for him, as Curse Breaking required for him to know it perfectly and to be able to translate most, if not all runic texts at least vaguely on the spot. It was a common alphabet used by ancient wizards and there was no time for hovering over books if you were stuck in a trap.

On top of already knowing the syllabus, Harry hated being talked at and that was exactly what the class was about. Theory and taking notes – Harry figured he might as well work on Transfiguration rather than stare aimlessly into space.

Naturally, neither Hermione nor Professor Babbling seemed very happy with that, but he chose to ignore them and continued with not much success. He worked through the rest of the class, the one after it and didn’t stop at lunch either.

“Potter, what in Merlin’s name are you trying to do?”

Draco approached the Gryffindor table at lunch to go through some material for the next Prefect meeting with Hermione, when he noticed the frustrated sounds coming from Harry. Near the end of the discussion with Hermione, he turned to see the parchment in Harry’s hand being turned into a dragonfly and being reversed, over and over again. Ron, who was sat opposite Harry, was blatantly ignoring it in favour of talking to Neville, and by that point Hermione gave up trying to get Harry to stop.

Harry didn’t notice Draco talking to him. Confused, Draco turned to Hermione who sighed dramatically.

“He’s trying to transfigure that parchment into a magical creature. Has been trying since Transfiguration.”

Draco made a noise of understanding. “What creature is he going for?”

“A fairy, I think.”

A wicked smile graced Malfoy’s face and he ignored the suspicious look Hermione was giving him. He took out his wand and with a flick, there was a fairy in a jar in his open hand. The little creature fluttered and preened for her sudden audience. Draco conjured it from his room, where he used it as a nightlight.

Draco waited for a moment, not long enough for Hermione to voice her disagreement, before he flicked his wand again at the same time as Harry.

A look comparable to a child’s on Christmas morning appeared on Harry’s face when he found himself holding a fairy and not a dragonfly.

Harry gaped at the fairy, looking from her to Ron (who had a knack of knowing when a prank was about to happen thanks to his brothers and turned to see what was going on) and over again. Ron did a wonderful job of faking his happiness for Harry. “I did it!” Harry exclaimed happily, making the fairy flutter its wings and letting it bask in the attention.

“Sorry mate, but you’re going to have to keep trying.” Draco tried his best not to laugh as he pushed the jar that once housed the fairy towards Harry. It now contained a dragonfly. Harry’s mood did a complete one-eighty and it blatantly showed on his face.

Hermione sat beside Draco, laughing so hard that her shoulders were shaking as she tried to contain it.

“You’re a bastard,” Harry groaned, turning the dragonfly back into the parchment before switching it back with the fairy. The little winged creature wasn’t too happy to be back in the jar and even less happy to not be in the centre of attention anymore.

“I know.” Draco said smugly, returning the jar back to his chambers with a little bit of magic. “You really should stop though, you’re going to magically exhaust yourself before lunch is over.

“I would not.”

“You would too, with the speed at which you were performing those spells.”

Harry glared at him and shot Hermione a ‘back me up here’ look. She shrugged, looking like she was agreeing with the Slytherin. She had a smile playing on her face, remnants of her laughing fit. Harry deflated, unhappy that his new friend wasn’t helping him and that he got played by Draco.

“I don’t have the magical core the size of a Flobberworm’s, it’s just a few spells.” Harry tried to depend himself. “I’d be fine.”

“Harry, try a few _hundred_. Transfiguration finished hours ago and you haven’t stopped since.” Hermione said, crossing her arms.

“Oh.”

“Oh indeed.” Hermione continued. “Now put your wand away before I confiscate it.”

“You can’t do that!” Blurted out Harry, holding the wand protectively close to his chest.

“Technically she can. As Head Girl, she can confiscate a student’s wand for up to twenty-four hours without a teacher’s permission if she thinks it’s necessary.” Draco piped in, looking extremely smug. Harry had the urge to hex him. “Apparently that power doesn’t extend to the Head Boy though, not entirely sure why.”

“If you could do that, half of Gryffindor would be wandless.” Ron chimed in, to which Draco looked offended for a moment. Then he shrugged and made a noise of agreement.

“It’s not my fault all of you can’t be trusted with your wands.” The Slytherin pointed out, which resulted in outcries of disagreement he chose to ignore.

“Okay, but coming back to the conversation at hand.” Harry said over the noise. “You can’t possibly tell me off for doing my work.”

“Yes I can, if it’s affecting your performance in other classes as well as your personal well-being.” The Head Girl pursed her lips.

“I’m _fine._ Also it’s the first day, it’s not like I’ll fall behind.” Harry rolled his eyes.

“That. Is. Not. The. Point!” The girl’s hair seemed to mirror her current state of being – frazzled and furious and out of control. She looked like she was about to start a long rant – ahem, _discussion_ – about the situation that once started, could not be stopped.

Draco seemed to notice that a little faster than everybody else.

“You could just go and see Professor McGonagall. He will be able to help you with it.” Draco said quickly, before Hermione opened her mouth again.

“Okay Draco. Firstly, you’re at the Gryffindor table right now, please take your logic elsewhere.” Harry said. “Secondly, that defeats the purpose of the entire thing. He transfigured that Murtlap right in front of me. It was a _challenge._ I’m supposed to figure it out myself, not come back crying that I can’t do it.”

“I doubt Professor McGonagall would challenge you like that.” Hermione said after calming down a little. “Especially since he knows how packed your schedule is.”

“What’s this about Potter’s schedule?” Draco inquired.

“He’s taking more classes than Hermione is.” Ron piped in to answer.

“Right, McGonagall is definitely not challenging you then. He probably wants you to at least ask him for a pointer in the right direction.” Draco said.

Harry crossed his arms and shook his head stubbornly. “That’s not how Gryffindors work. It’s a challenge, I tell you.” He said. “And if it isn’t, I’m gonna make it one.”

Hermione looked like she had the urge to bang her head on the table, repeatedly. Draco looked bemusedly between Harry and Hermione, clearly enjoying the exchange.

“How about this Potter,” Draco said. “I will bet you that you will not be able to use that spell to transfigure something into a magical creature without asking Professor McGonagall for help. Let’s say you have…a week? Yes, a week to accomplish this or fail. Until the Transfiguration class this time next week.”

“You’re on, Draco.” Harry grinned. “If I win, you will have to announce to the entirety of the school, in the Great Hall at meal time, that you think that Gryffindor is the superior house and you wish you got sorted into it.”

Draco laughed at him. “I am so glad I will be winning this then. If I win, you will owe me a favour.”

Harry nodded and they went to shake hands. It was settled. Harry was filled with new determination, having something to prove not only to himself, but also someone else. He wasn’t about to let Draco win the bet. A week was plenty of time to master a spell to the level he wanted, especially since he was already rather proficient at it.

“I hope you realise he will not do any of the work for other classes because of this, Malfoy.” Hermione frowned disapprovingly.

“Not my problem,” Draco shrugged and turned on his heel. “I’ll be returning to the Slytherin table now. Wouldn’t want to contract any of your Gryffindorishness.”

An offended ‘hey!’ followed him as he left, smiling to himself. Harry immediately returned to the Free Transfiguration, which naturally set off Hermione into another scolding rant.

…

Later that day the Gryffindor students settled in their common room after stuffing themselves full during dinner. Transfiguration momentarily forgotten, Harry wriggled in the plush armchair by the fire as if he couldn’t get comfortable. He had his Ancient Runes assignment in front of him, abandoned. Hermione bullied him into starting it, wanting to use his expertise to check over her work.

Said girl was doing a wonderful impression of Headmistress McGonagall, stern disapproval making her look older than her seventeen years.

“Honestly, will you stop fidgeting?” Hermione threw her assignment down onto the table, sighing in exasperation.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled, but didn’t stop. “I’m not used to this. Too much energy. I need to _do_ something.”

“ _Do_ your assignment.”

“Yeah, no. I want to do something fun. Go on an adventure.” Harry grumbled, pushing himself forward in the armchair. He started to drum his arms on his knees, looking around the room. “I want to explore. I need to explore.”

Hermione huffed, glaring at the boy. It was clear he would be no help in the homework and would not finish his own either. She considered the boy and his twitching form, sighing as she made up her mind.

“The curfew isn’t for another three hours, you know.”

Harry stared at her as if she grew another head.

“Three hours Harry.” She warned him, her intention clear.

Harry didn’t need any more convincing, he bolted out of the portrait hole as if someone was chasing him. Hermione fell back into her seat, groaning and hoping she didn’t make a mistake by encouraging him.

…

It turned out that walking around aimlessly through the castle was not the best way to discover all its secrets. Harry has left the Gryffindor Common Room and wandered through the corridors in hope of seeing something that looked amiss, something he could stumble into that could lead to a secret room or passage. He always had an incredible stroke of luck that came with those things and a knack for finding just the right thing to poke and prod in order to gain access.

However a castle was different to Egyptian ruins. It was big, old and not to mention still inhabited. Inhabited places were harder to search through at times, due to the humans who remain there changing things about for their own comfort. There was nothing more frustrating than not finding a vital piece of information because it was hand painted on a wall and someone decided to wallpaper over it.

The challenge made it all the more exciting for Harry, but the prospect of having to research the castle was not exactly what he wanted to do. Slaving over books wasn’t what he liked to do on any day, especially after he spent the whole day doing it. This left him walking around the corridors leading towards the dreaded library, praying that he fell through a hidden entrance.

“Aren’t you meant to be working on the spell? Gave up already?”

Harry turned on his heel to face Draco Malfoy. The boy was no longer wearing his Slytherin robes, but an open grey robe with casual slacks and button up. Harry thought he looked rather well when he wasn’t dressed in all black. It worked nicely with how pale he was, rather than making him look like a ghost.

“I’m confident I can do it, I’m taking a break.” Harry said to him, puffing his chest in confidence.

“Is that why you’re heading to the library?” Draco asked.

Harry glared at him. “What – no! I’m actually wanting to do some research about the castle. I want to explore it?”

Draco looked interested all of sudden. He raised an eyebrow, closing the remaining distance between him and Harry. “Oh? Do elaborate.”

“Well, Hogwarts is bound to have secrets. I want to uncover them, might as well since I’m stuck here for a year.” Harry explained. “I’m hoping there will be a few books about the History of Hogwarts in the library so I could have something to start with.”

“ _Hogwarts: A History_.”

“What?”

“ _Hogwarts: A History_.” Draco rolled his eyes. “That’s the book you want. Granger has like seven copies of it and there’s another few in the library. One-thousand pages on everything you want to – and don’t want to – know about Hogwarts.”

“That’s a lot of pages.” Harry found it quite daunting. He really didn’t feel up to reading a thousand pages. Even a castle as old as Hogwarts should not have a thousand-page book written about it. Not when it’s a school and has been a school since the beginning. “Think there’s a summary of it somewhere? I doubt Hermione would give me the run down after she all but kicked me out of the common room.”

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t really feel up to studying.” Harry smiled sheepishly. “She didn’t appreciate it. Told me to get out and be back before curfew, just not in so many words.”

Draco nodded, understanding. He knew all too well how Granger got when she was studying and was glad he didn’t share a common room with the girl.

“Well, I happen to have read _Hogwarts: A History_ too.” Draco said, smiling mischievously at Harry. The boy lit up like a Christmas tree.

“You did?”

“Yes.”

“Will you help me?”

Draco looked off into the distance, pretending to think about it. He smirked at Harry, tapping his index finger on his chin. “Perhaps.” He said. “There has been things about Hogwarts that I think remained a mystery for far too long.”

“Oh come on, Draco!” Harry begged. “It will be fun, an adventure!”

“Well, I always wanted to see what’s hidden in the Chamber of Secrets.” Draco smiled. Harry stared at him wide eyed, before he returned a smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more pre-written chapter after this, and then we're going to move onto updates as I finish writing each part. The story is getting a bit more interesting from this point onward, which is very exciting.
> 
> As always, feedback is welcome!


	4. Hand of Glory

Although Harry did not want to leaf through a thousand pages on the history of Hogwarts, he found himself sat in the library with Draco doing exactly that. The moment the Slytherin boy summoned _Hogwarts: A History_ to their table, Harry recognised it as a more beaten version of the book he was looking through on the train. He remembered it being long, dwindling and going off on tangents that were entirely pointless; and his heart sunk a little at the thought of reading it again.

Luckily, Draco knew the book back to front and flicked through the pages to relevant passages quickly. He copied those onto a spare piece of parchment without much effort – charming his quill to write the notes for him. Harry peered over his shoulder as it was happening, noticing that the information on the parchment was rather limited.

“Obviously, it would’ve been discovered already if it was blatantly stated in this book.” Draco said when Harry mentioned it. That got the Gryffindor more excited, imagining being one of the first people to enter the Chamber in a thousand years. “Someone has opened it around fifty years ago though, so there has to be something here that would’ve let them discover it.”

“Wait, what? What happened fifty years ago? Are there any accounts of the incident, they could have relevant clues?” A small ball of disappointment formed in Harry’s chest at the thought of someone already being in there before him.

Draco disappeared between the rows of books, coming back with stacks of old newspapers. It took a long while, but he copied the relevant articles and the two boys peered over them carefully. Harry scanned the pages, listening to Draco’s summary while trying to see if anything on the page stood out to him.

“It happened in 1943, there were attacks on the school and the last one resulted in the death of a student.” Draco said, pointing to the copy of an article talking about the incident. It mentioned how Hogwarts was to be closed down if the culprit was not found. “There’s not much else said in these. Just quotes from concerned parents.”

“These just mention the attacker being found and that Hogwarts remained open.” Harry muttered, shuffling between a few articles – they were no more than small snippets, nothing concrete. “Why are these so short? Shouldn’t these be considered big news? A murderer is found at Hogwarts and all these newspapers published barely a sentence or two.”

“I don’t know…a cover up maybe?” Draco guessed, pulling up the full archived newspapers rather than the copied articles. “I cannot imagine parents would stand for it though. What else was happening at the time?”

“Muggle World War One. The hunt for Grindelwald. Albus Dumbledore didn’t defeat him until 1945.” Harry said, pointing out a passage in one of the newspapers talking about the continued effort of Hit Wizards attempting to capture and put an end to Grindelwald. Draco’s eyes lit up in recognition and he searched for another newspaper – this time an ancient _Witch Weekly_. The front-page news was a plea for Professor Albus Dumbledore to apprehend Grindelwald, claiming that he was the only one powerful enough to stop him.

“Professor Dumbledore currently resides at Hogwarts as the Head of Transfiguration…” Draco read out loud. “Which means he was at the castle during the attacks. He was Headmaster until he died in 1981, I didn’t know he was a teacher for that long though.”

“It’s a shame we can’t just ask him…”

“I mean, we could. He has a portrait in the Headmaster’s office, but I doubt that he would tell us much. It’s clear that everyone was trying to cover it up.”

The two boys fell silent, trying to process everything they just found out. Both of them were having a second look through the newspapers, in hopes of finding something they may have missed.

“Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy it’s fifteen minutes until curfew. I believe it’s time for Mr Potter to head back to his dorm and don’t you have Head Boy duties to attend to Mr Malfoy?” Madame Prince appeared from behind the bookshelves, making the two seventh years jump. “I’ll return these newspapers to their shelves, don’t expect this next time though.”

Draco quickly gathered all their notes and copied articles and duplicated them, handing one stack to Harry. They left the library with a thank you and goodnight to Madame Prince and hurried towards Gryffindor Tower – Draco electing to escort Harry back to his dorm. They were around half way there when Draco stopped in his tracks, with a look of epiphany on his face.

“I think my Grandfather was at Hogwarts in 1945.” Draco said to Harry, who quickly understood what that meant. “I’m not entirely sure, I can’t remember when he graduated but it was around that time. I’m not sure how much he’d know, or be willing to say, but it’s a lead.”

Draco agreed to owl his Grandfather, asking for information. He hoped that the man would be willing to say anything without Draco having to wait for Christmas Holidays to visit him in person. “Grandfather lives in France for most of the year, so it might take a few days for him to owl us back.” Draco said as they reached the painting of The Fat Lady.

“Right, I’ll see if I can decipher anything else from what we got. We haven’t really gone through the notes from _Hogwarts: A History_ so I’ll start there.”

“Don’t forget about our wager,” Draco teased with a wicked grin. Harry rolled his eyes at him.

“I won’t. I’ve got this in the bag.”

“Sure you do.” Draco said as he walked off. When he disappeared from sight into another corridor, Harry turned around and entered the common room after a quick conversation with the Fat Lady and telling her the password. Inside he was greeted with a pleasant buzz of conversation between the Gryffindors; and Hermione sitting by the fire and staring expectantly at the portrait hole. She formed a pleased expression on her face, similar to a cat who got the cream, when she saw the portrait shut behind Harry.

“You’re three minutes late.” Hermione commented, shutting the book that was in her lap.

“I was finishing my conversation with Draco outside.” Harry said.

“I suppose I’ll let you off. Do finish your homework on time, you only have a week left to do it. Also, don’t forget to pack your textbooks for tomorrow – we have Defence first thing in the morning.” Hermione rattled off, thrusting the books and parchment Harry abandoned three hours earlier into his hands. “I’ll be heading to bed soon, I suggest you do the same.”

“Alright Hermione,” Harry smiled warmly. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”

Soon after Hermione headed up to her dorm room, Harry decided to do the same and see what the rest of his dorm mates were up to. Harry ended up joining their game of Exploding Snap that continued late into the night. At some point they ended up betting on it using Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans and when they were finally calling it a night, Harry lost half of his box to Seamus. Ron ended up finding out what Belly Button Lint tastes like, and Neville had the unfortunate pleasure of bolting to the bathroom after getting Liver flavour.

…

Even with the late night, Harry woke up at dawn. Groaning, he stretched underneath the duvet and let his body sag into the mattress for a moment longer. He wasn’t all that happy about being up so early, but he knew that he couldn’t fall back asleep no matter how hard he tried. There was no helping it.

He didn’t feel like getting out of bed just yet though. The sinking feeling of homesickness overwhelmed him again and he wished it would pass soon. He knew from experience that it will take a couple of days if he keeps busy, which looks like he will be. Between the classes, the Transfiguration bet, the search for the Chamber of Secrets, and actually getting to know his classmates; Harry certainly had a lot on his plate.

Somewhere on that train of thought, he remembered that he should owl his parents. It would help with how he was feeling and keep him busy until he felt ready to get on with his day. Pulling out parchment and writing utensils from the school bag he discarded by his bed, he propped the parchment up on his History of Magic textbook and penned the letter.

_Dear Mum & Dad,_

_How’s everything at home? Everything is fine on my side – you guys were right about Hogwarts, it’s amazing so far. The castle is beautiful and I’m hoping to figure out some of its secrets that dad hasn’t already._

_You’re probably wondering what house I got sorted into. Why didn’t you tell me about the Sorting Hat? It’s an incredible magical artefact and I only just find out about it…I can’t believe you guys sometimes. I’m going to have to figure out where they keep it when it’s not sorting students. Purely for research purposes, of course. I got into Gryffindor by the way, so there’s that._

_Somehow, I made friends with the Head Girl and Boy – mum, I think you’d like Hermione, she reminds me of you a lot. Just a bit more uptight. Like you, but from the stories dad told me from before you two got together. She’s also in Gryffindor, and is trying to keep me in check. I don’t think that will last long. The Head Boy is Draco Malfoy. Seems like a nice bloke. Him and Hermione have a strange friendship._

_The rest of the guys in my dorm are cool too – we stayed up last night playing Exploding Snap and betting with Bertie Bott’s, which I’m regretting very much right now. On that note, can you send me more Every Flavour Beans? I’m running low._

_Most classes are just as boring as expected. History of Magic is a joke – why is the entire syllabus on Goblin Wars is beyond me. I know Binns is a ghost and you should respect the dead, but someone should exorcise him just so we could have a chance of getting a decent education. I don’t think Professor Babbling (Ancient Runes) likes me very much, which has nothing to do with me not paying attention in class, mum!_

_So far, the best class is Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall starts with mind-numbing theory, but at least we have a practical each class. We’re learning about Free Transfiguration right now, and I made a bet with Draco. The spell we’re learning apparently can transfigure items into weak magical creatures, so if I manage to do that before next week’s class, Draco has to announce in the Great Hall that he thinks that Gryffindor is the superior house and that he wishes he got into it (he’s in Slytherin). I’m sure this will be a piece of cake, it can’t be that hard to do._

_I also explored the castle for a bit yesterday. Ended up in the Library – don’t act so surprised. It’s different to search for hidden room in an occupied castle. Mostly annoying as people kept changing things over the years. Draco and I got ourselves a pet project exploring the castle for some specific rooms. On a completely unrelated note, you don’t happen to know anyone who was at Hogwarts in 1945?_

_I miss you guys a lot. I also miss Cairo and Rowan. Can’t wait for this year to be over, so I can go back to treasure hunting. I bet Rowan got lost in some ancient tomb without me already._

_Harry_

…

Harry felt a lot more like himself after breakfast. He visited Hedwig in the Owlery and sent her off with the letter, then sat down in the Great Hall while looking over his notes on the Chamber of Secrets. The mystery got his blood pumping again, and he couldn’t wait to work on it again with Draco. The latter boy wasn’t early for breakfast that morning, so Harry ate alone until everyone else arrived. Not that he minded, he was in his own world for a while.

Defence took place on the third-floor, and two distinct clusters of students made their way up towards it. Gryffindors took the lead, poor Neville tripping on one of the trick steps. Seamus managed to grab one of Neville’s arms and keep the boy from hitting the stairs face-first. The Slytherins were trailing after them, with Draco in the front. Harry ended up trailing behind the Gryffindors to talk to him and his companions – Pansy, and the boy from Transfiguration that he didn’t know the name of.

“Morning. Did you get a chance to owl your Grandfather?” Harry asked.

“We’ve only just had breakfast, Potter.” Draco rolled his eyes as he adjusted the bag on his shoulder. “But yes, I did. I sent the owl just before I headed to the Great Hall.”

“What’s this about your Grandfather, Draco? You barely speak to the man.” Pansy inquired, eyebrows raised in mild curiosity.

“Potter and I are working on a small project, so to say. We’re hoping Grandfather will be able to help us with some information we need.”

“You and your projects. We’ve only been back a day.” She rolled her eyes, flipping her short hair back.

“Does he have a lot of these projects?” Harry asked out of curiosity.

“A lot would be an understatement. Ever since we’ve known him, Draco has been working on something. Never seems to want to share with the class either.” The Slytherin boy between Pansy and Draco looked pointedly at the Malfoy heir. The latter’s eyes sparkled with mischief that Harry thought was a very good look for him. “We haven’t been formally introduced yet, I’m Blaise Zabini.”

“No, we haven’t. Harry Potter.” The two of them shook hands, and Harry found himself pleasantly surprised at all the Slytherins he has met so far. None of them seemed to have judged him about being in Gryffindor, or any such nonsense. It could have something to do with Pansy and Blaise being friends with Draco, thus sharing similar ideologies.

“Perhaps with you around, we’ll actually figure out what Draco is up to this time.” Blaise sent him a blinding smile.

“Maybe.” Harry agreed, although he seriously doubted it. He had a feeling that anything that Draco wanted to be kept secret, he would find a way of keeping it as such. The look that the Head Boy gave him only affirmed that.

The door to the Defence classroom was already open when they reached it. It was a large room, with a large, raised platform at one end of it. Windows were bringing in dimmed light into the room from behind the platform, and various parchments depicting diagrams and ink drawings were hung from strings between the platform columns. The desks were organised to be facing the platform in a half-circle. Tapestries of wizard duels and magical creatures covered the remaining walls, with a side entrance to the classroom on the left of the platform.

The two houses split themselves into opposite sides of the room, Harry grabbing a seat in the middle of the semi-circle. He ended up sharing a desk with Ron, with Hermione in front of them. To Harry’s right, the rows of Slytherins started. Draco and Pansy took the table beside Harry’s, with Blaise not far behind. The class settled in, pulling out parchment (presumably their summer homework) and the textbook ( _Defence and You: Further Self-Protection Strategies_ by Quentin Trimble). Harry was the only one without the parchment beside him, which he hoped wasn’t something he’d have to make up later.

Harry was just about to turn to ask Ron about it, when the side entrance opened.

Professor Quirrell was the sort of man whose mere presence demanded attention. Harry noticed that during meal times, but it became even more clear in a contained space such as the classroom. He confidently strode onto the platform, with the grace that shouldn’t belong to someone that thin and pale. He stopped when he reached the middle of the platform, his robes billowing around him as he turned to face the class. Harry noticed that he switched the robe he wore during meals to a set of battle robes. The set looked like a custom job – perfectly cut to fit the Professor, with dragonhide parts and deep purple heavy cotton that glistened when the light caught it from the enchantments weaved into the fabric.

“Welcome to your final year of Defence class. I see you have your summer assignments ready, you will receive your feedback next class.” Professor Quirrell pulled out his wand and with a quick swish, the parchments levitated from the desks and stacked themselves neatly on his desk at the back of the platform. “Mister Potter, as you are a new student, you will not have to catch up on this assignment. Consider that your welcome gift. I’m Professor Quirrell, if you’re not aware of that yet.”

Harry nodded when his name was mentioned, his shoulders sagging in relief that he wouldn’t have to play catch up. He had a feeling that not all Professors would be this generous. Professor Quirrell let out a small smile, noticing the relief rolling off his student, before addressing the whole class again.

“We have covered a good majority of what you’re required to know for the NEWT exams last year, this year we will be concentrating on using the skills you already know for real-life application. There is no point in having a NEWT in a subject and not actually knowing what to do with it after graduation. We will be alternating classes on the NEWT curriculum with battle magic and real-life application practise. You are seventh year students, you can handle this.” An excited murmur rumbled through the class, before quickly falling silent. “Mister Potter, I will give you a list of subjects we covered last year so you know where we’re up to. I expect you to catch up quickly. Everything is either in your textbook, or one of your classmates will know it. My office door is always open if you require further help though. Naturally the latter goes to all of you, as you should already know.”

Professor Quirrell raised his wand again, and black curtains flew over the windows. The room dimmed, enough for a magical projection to be clearly visible on the wall behind the Professor when he flicked his wand again. Harry scanned the information on the projection and couldn’t help but smile.

“Dark Artefacts.” Professor Quirrell’s voice boomed in the dim light. “Are as old as magic itself. Who can tell me what gives an Artefact the ‘Dark’ classification?”

Harry saw Hermione’s hand shoot up in the air at the same time as his. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a few Slytherins raise their hands too.

“Mister Potter.”

“It gains the classification when Dark Magic is used to bewitch it. It doesn’t necessarily have to have a Dark outcome.” Harry had a fair few run ins with such artefacts in the past, most of the time they weren’t pleasant. He had a feeling that he knew where the class was going, but the way Professor Quirrell spoke surprisingly kept his attention. Much more than Transfiguration did anyway.

“Good. Three points to Gryffindor. Mister Potter is quite correct, a Dark Artefact doesn’t have to curse you or have a negative result for it to be considered as such. The ritual, or spell used to bewitch or craft the item gives it the classification. Now, can anyone give me an example of a Dark Artefact that isn’t necessarily evil itself? Mister Malfoy?”

“Hand of Glory.” The projection switched, and it now showed a drawing of a shrivelled hand with a candle implanted on it.

“Ah yes, the Hand of Glory. Quite the popular Dark Artefact, which due to its properties has not been banned by the Ministry. The Hand of Glory gives light, but only to the owner. A perfect little item to have if you’re a thief – or an Auror. The Ministry likes to keep a few of these on hand for their law enforcement.” Professor Quirrell laughed softly at his own wording. “It’s a curious artefact, with plenty of rumours surrounding it. Some say it opens any locked door it comes across, some say it immobilises anyone who looks at it. In reality, it gives the holder the ability to see in perfect darkness and not much else. Doesn’t sound too evil, does it? Unless you decide to use it for some nefarious deeds. Three points to Slytherin as well, Mister Malfoy. Yes, Miss Granger?”

Hermione, who’s hand was in the air throughout the entire explanation, lowered it finally.

“In the same way, would regular Artefacts that haven’t been made with Dark Magic, be considered not Dark even if they are harming people?”

“Good question. What do you think?”

Hermione opened her mouth and paused for a moment, pondering. “I think…I think I would consider them Dark if they have negative effects on people.”

“That’s a good way of thinking about it. According to the Ministry laws, they are not Dark objects. Dangerous, and some restricted, but not Dark. It’s an odd way of classification, however luckily there aren’t many of these artefacts around. Most objects that are harmful to you would be bewitched with a Dark spell.”

The class continued, with Professor Quirrell holding the undivided attention of most of the class. Harry, although initially captivated by the teaching, quickly became restless. He started to space out when the lesson moved onto spells that one would use to recognise and protect themselves from a Dark Artefact. Harry knew most of them, quickly earning points for Gryffindor when it came to the practical part of the class by successfully casting them.

He perked up when Professor Quirrell showed him, and a few of the students who caught up on the spells quickly, a few spells that he either invented himself or learned during his sabbatical. The latter spells came from wizards that lived in isolated settlements, who never bothered to publish their findings and passed on their knowledge via word of mouth.

Harry had a harder time with the new spells, but still picked them up rather quickly. The Defence class was a double slot, and by the end of it Harry managed to cast all three of the new spells correctly. He still needed more practise, but he made some hurried notes on the incantations and wand movement to go over later. He already decided that Defence was the best class he would have during Hogwarts, since Professor Quirrell wasn’t strictly keeping to the curriculum, and was enhancing it with things they would actually need to know.

Unsurprisingly, Hermione and Draco were on the same level as Harry in the subject. Blaise was also not far behind them, and Dean and Neville had a surprising aptitude for the spells they covered. Harry couldn’t help laughing when he saw Blaise showing off in front of Pansy, which triggered the witch to send a Stinging Hex at him behind Quirrell’s back.

“Mister Potter, please wait after class.”

Harry hung back when the bell rang for the session to be over. The other seventh years left the room in high spirits, most of them having a free period before lunch. Harry had Arithmancy, but he didn’t mind missing out on the beginning of that class. Studying it with Rowan was dull enough, and after Ancient Runes he lost hope on the teacher making the subject interesting.

Professor Quirrell organised the classroom with a flick of his wand, any chairs that weren’t properly pushed behind the desks straightening out. Loose parchment and broken quills disappeared with a pop, and a sponge appeared above the stain where Seamus blew up his bottle of ink and started to scrub it clean. He then stepped off the podium and joined Harry by where he was stood. The Professor was holding a piece of parchment, that he handed to Harry.

“As I mentioned, here are the subjects you missed. I assume you covered them already, but it doesn’t hurt to have a refresher.” Professor Quirrell started. Harry scanned the parchment, noting that he did in fact go through everything on the list. He thought that he should still ask someone about them though, if Professor Quirrell had the habit of teaching extra-curricular, but relevant spells.

“From your behaviour during class, I can see why you chose to go the Apprentice route. Yes, Professor McGonagall has informed us of why you are only joining us now.” Professor Quirrell explained, noticing the look in Harry’s eyes. “As much as I understand you, I do expect you to pay attention. You have undoubtable talent for Defence strategies and I will not have it go wasted. I will be challenging you with more difficult material. If your Master taught you correctly, you should know everything required for NEWTs already.”

“That sounds great,” Harry said honestly. Professor Quirrell was a fountain of knowledge, and he wasn’t about to waste an opportunity. Hopefully he will be learning more practical things over theory.

“Good.” Professor Quirrell smiled mildly, leaning back against one of the desks. His arms were crossed over his chest. “I think you’ll find next class more to your liking, Mister Potter. Now go, I wouldn’t want Professor Vector after me because I kept you here for too long.”

…

Arithmancy was, as predicted, a mind-numbing class. Professor Vector looked like she got an unsavoury taste in her mouth when Harry walked in late. She didn’t bother listening to his excuse, instead glaring at him until he shuffled into the first open seat. The class was half-empty, with the walls covered in number charts and deadly quiet. After Professor Vector stopped talking, no one dared to speak or ask questions and instead got on with their tasks. Harry hated every moment of it, from the terribly complicated numerology quiz they were taking, to how every student besides Hermione looked like they lived in fear of the Professor. Harry felt elated when he could escape the class for lunch.

The rest of the day, as well as the next one, passed in a blur. Harry went to class, spent time doing homework at Hermione’s insistence, and practised the Free Transfiguration spell with not much improvement. He couldn’t figure out what he was doing wrong, but he was too stubborn to ask anyone for help and he wasn’t stuck enough to go searching for an answer in the library yet. The Chamber of Secrets reading was put on the back burner, until Draco’s owl would return with his Grandfather’s reply.

Somewhere amongst all of the work he found himself doing, Harry did find a moment in the late afternoon to distract Hermione for long enough that Ron and Seamus could smuggle a crate of butterbeer from the kitchens (and a bottle of Firewhiskey, courtesy of Ron’s twin brothers, that he refused to say how he smuggled in) to the boys’ dorm without the Head Girl knowing. They hid the bottles underneath Neville’s bed, as he was the least suspicious one, and decided to leave them for after Harry wins the bet with Draco. After all, the Slytherin’s admission would be one worth celebrating.

…

_Harry,_

_DO NOT STEAL THE SORTING HAT_

_Congratulations on getting into Gryffindor! We are so proud of you. Your father was so excited when he found out that he slipped on the rug and knocked over the lamp Petunia gave us for our wedding gift. It ended up in pieces, and we momentarily forgot the incantation for the Mending Charm, so it ended up in the bin. I hope you weren’t too attached to it._

_I’m glad you are making friends – hopefully your new Head Boy and Girl friends will keep you out of too much trouble. I don’t want an owl home from Professor McGonagall within the first month. Hermione and Draco sound lovely, I’ve sent you some Coconut Ice to share with them and your other friends. These are made to be a variation on Pink Coconut Ice that I’m working on with Mr Flume – they change colours and whatever colour hits your tongue has a slightly different taste. Do let me know what everyone thinks of them. I’ve also sent you some more Bertie Bott’s like you asked – don’t eat them all at once!_

_If you need some extra help with the Tranfiguration bet, do owl your father. He said he knows what to do, but we know you’d rather figure it out yourself._

_I can’t think of anyone who was at Hogwarts during that time, sorry darling. Some of the teachers might have been students at the time, but I’m not certain. Your father wants to know what is that you’re researching that you need it for. He seems to find it hilarious that you’ve been at Hogwarts for barely a day and you’re already elbow deep in some mystery._

_We miss you so much too. I can’t wait for you to be back for the holidays. Sirius and Remus are planning to take you somewhere during the break, but I’ll be damned if I don’t spend lots of quality time with my son. Expect owls from them soon, Sirius was reading your letter over James’ shoulder._

_Mum and Dad_

_P.S. I know for a fact that this is not on the Marauder’s Map and your father seems to be very cross with me now that he’s reading this, but if you go to the painting of Marcelline Blanchet and ask her about the party of 1703, you might find something interesting. Ask the Fat Lady about where it is, she’s good friends with Marcelline. Consider this a ‘Congratulations you’re finally at Hogwarts’ gift._

_P.P.S OWL ME ABOUT WHAT HAPPENS WITH THE PAINTING – Dad_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm spoiling you with all these updates! I wanted to wait a few days to post this while I write the next part, but I just couldn't help myself. Chapter 5 should be out in a few days (maximum 3 weeks, as I'm on holiday next week and won't have my laptop to write). I do want two more chapters out before I go on holiday though, if all goes well.  
> I shall be leaving you will this to speculate while I write up the next part. Feedback is welcome and appreciated! Would love to hear what you think about this chapter.


	5. A Horned Witch

Harry slid into the seat next to Hermione’s, popping a Coconut Ice into his mouth. It was another lunch in the Great Hall, with Hermione looming over a thick tome for Arithmancy. She looked up from her reading, to see Harry pushing a box of Coconut Ice towards her.

“Mum sent me these to share with friends. They’re a variation on the Pink Coconut Ice that Honeyduke’s sells.” Harry explained, picking up another one from the box. The colour-changing candy flashed yellow when it hit his tongue. Lemon and coconut flavour filled his mouth.

Hermione picked up one of the many candies, studying it first. She popped it into her mouth, and it tasted like blueberries with a hint of coconut. Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “These are delicious.”

“I’ll make sure to tell mum.” Harry smiled. “I wanted to ask you – did Professor Quirrell teach any non-curricular spells last year? I noticed that he did in the class we had.”

“He’s been doing that ever since First Year.” Hermione admitted. “He doesn’t believe that just the curriculum as it is, is preparing us properly. He’s been trying to advocate a change to it at the Ministry, but in the meantime, he’s been teaching us extra spells. I’ve been keeping a separate notebook of just those spells since he mentioned it."

“Could I have a look at it?” Harry asked, sending her a dazzling, pleading smile. “You know, because Professor Quirrell asked me to catch up.”

“Well,” Hermione countered, leaning her elbows on the table and resting her chin on her hands. “What’s in it for me?”

Harry paused for a second, blinking owlishly. Then he burst out laughing - a genuine, infectious laughter that brought a smile to Hermione’s face. Hermione certainly spent too much time with Draco.

“Why am I not surprised,” Harry chuckled. “I can get you more of these Coconut Ices? Or promise some copies of manuscripts that I found in Egypt over the years? I’d offer them earlier, but I can’t access my vault until the holidays so it would have to wait till Christmas.”

“Knowledge for knowledge seems like a fair exchange.” Hermione said. “I’ll be looking forward to those manuscripts over Christmas then. I’ll bring you a copy of my notebook once we’re back in the common room after Potions.”

They shook hands over it, falling into easy conversation over the application of runes. Lunch passed quickly, Harry distributing out Coconut Ice to the rest of the seventh year Gryffindors as they joined them at the table.

“I’m just saying, _Spellman’s Syllabary_ was completely butchered in Amorim’s edition. Spellman’s edition is difficult to read, but at least it’s correct.” Harry argued. “She added those useless passages on her own reasoning behind the numbers and magical creature correlations. Ignoring completely that both Blishen and Harja already gave much more plausible speculations for it that scholars agree on.”

“That doesn’t mean that her speculation is incorrect! We don’t know for sure, so obviously –“ Hermione started. She was interrupted by Draco leaning over her, to pick up a Coconut Ice from where the box was on the table next to her. She squeaked mid-sentence as he put a hand on her shoulder and blushed. “Malfoy! You made me lose my train of thought.”

“It wasn’t a good one. Amorim is a sham, and a laughing stock.” The Slytherin noted, biting into the Coconut Ice. “The only reason we use her edition in the curriculum is because Spellman included example translation of some Ancient Dark Rituals. Amorim got rid of them and added different ones, so they went with her version when they reviewed the curriculum some years back. These are good, where did you get these?”

“Mum made these to share out with everyone.” Harry replied, wheezing slightly from laughing too hard at Hermione’s reaction.

“Hey Malfoy, you’ve been at our table more than you have been with the Slytherins lately. Did you decide to join the better house?” Ron asked from the other side of the table. The blond raised a thin eyebrow in response, smirking.

“My job is to make sure no students get into trouble. I can’t help it that Gryffindor needs much more supervision than the actually civilised houses.”

“Oi, what’s that supposed to mean?” Ron barked back between mouthfuls of the Coconut Ice. Draco pointedly looked down at him with distaste.

“Exactly what you think it meant.” He drawled. “With so many children, it’s no surprise that your mother forgot to teach one manners.”

Ron’s face closely resembled the colour of his hair at the remark, and he bit back with a rather creative string of curses. Hermione’s eyebrows were up in her hairline as she stared at the boy, pale with shock and surprise. Draco looked amused, lips curled into a perfect smug smile.

“That will be five points for the crude language, Weasley.”

The Weasley boy was positively shaking in his seat, spluttering at the deduction of points. His Gryffindor classmates looked torn on what to think, especially Hermione – Draco was allowed to take points for language. However, he was taunting the Gryffindor, although it wasn’t much beyond their usual squabbles. Hermione pursed her lips, not happy with either of the boys. Draco, noticing that, sent her an innocent look – they both knew she didn’t have much of a case arguing against it for once.

“I think it’s time to break this up.” Hermione said with a clipped tone. “Draco, Harry, we have Potions to go to. I suggest the rest of you go to your classes as well, before this escalates even more.”

Hermione herded her fellow students to where they were meant to be, with no one bringing the subject up again. It didn’t stop Ron from stomping off in fury, or Draco sniggering behind Hermione’s back.

…

They reached Potions just in time to see the door to the classroom slam open, and the few seventh-year students who passed onto NEWT-level quickly entered. There were enough tables in the torch-lit dungeon room that they could all have one to themselves, although it seemed only a few people chose to do it. Draco was among those that sat alone, although Harry chose to slide into the seat next to Pansy Parkinson. He wasn’t inept when it came to the subject, but he wasn’t confident enough to sit on his own. It was a few months since he last brewed a potion, and with his attention span it wasn’t the greatest experience.

Harry jumped in his seat when the classroom door slammed shut behind them. He turned his head, to see the Professor stalk between the middle rows of desks to the front of the room. Chalk already sprung to life from where it laid on the desk and started to write instructions on the blackboard. Thick scrolls flew from the students’ desks and stacked themselves neatly on the teacher’s own. Harry deflated, knowing that was one homework he wouldn’t be able to get out of.

“That was the summer assignment on Golpalott’s Third Law, Potter. Twelve inches, I expect it on my desk next week.” Professor Severus Snape announced, coming to a stop in front of the blackboard. His robes billowed around him as he turned on his heel to face the class. He stared down at Harry disdainfully. “Your mother was rather secretive as of late, now I understand why.”

Harry looked down sheepishly. He hasn’t seen Severus Snape since before he started his apprenticeship, as the Potions Professor worked with Lily on occasion. Harry remembered Lily furiously forcing the friendship on Snape, who always seemed disgruntled with everything (although he stuck around, so clearly, he didn’t mind it as much as he said). The last time Harry saw Snape was a disaster to put it mildly, as young Harry ( _accidentally!_ ) wreaked havoc in Lily’s potion room.

“Nonetheless, I do hope you managed to gain some braincells during your absence. Merlin knows if you did however, therefore to be safe you will sit with Malfoy. I won’t have any exploding cauldrons in my dungeon, especially in a NEWT class.” Professor Snape drawled. Harry quickly shuffled towards the front and took the seat next to Draco, who was looking at him quizzically. Harry shrugged his shoulders in response.

“We will be having a practical on Golpalott’s Third Law next week so I do hope you all learned something.” Professor Snape muttered to the silent class. He then pointed at the blackboard, which was scrawled from top to bottom in Potions theory and instructions. “You will be making the Potion of the Sleepless Mind. You will be testing these potions on yourselves, and an incorrectly brewed potion can cause a week-long insomnia without the revitalising effects. It also tastes similarly to rotten fish. Copy the instructions on the board and begin brewing individual potions. You have two hours.”

It felt like a spell has lifted from the class, and it became alive with the sound of quills scratching on parchment and the clinking of vials as everyone set up their stations. A quiet murmur fell through the class, not loud enough to bother the Professor, who settled behind his desk to start marking the summer assignments. A well of fiery red ink sat on top of the desk, much larger than the standard ink wells.

_Potion of the Sleepless Mind_

_Created by Vasilios Varys the Restless in 1843, when consumed, the Potion of the Sleepless Mind grants the drinker the ability to not require sleep for fourty-eight hours. The drinker will feel refreshed as if just woken from a restful sleep until the potion effect ends. Varys created it in hopes to eliminate sleep altogether, as he believed it to be a waste of time. He was perfecting the potion until his death, although he could never make it last longer than fourty-eight hours._

_When brewed correctly, the potion will be a true red, viscous syrup; and will emit orange and yellow smoke that will faintly smell of cinnamon. It should taste spicy, but refreshing. Incorrectly brewed potion will taste similarly to rotten fish, with varying smell and look. Potion of the Sleepless Mind is to be stored in a warm, dry environment and has a shelf life of one year and four months._

_The potion should not be taken often, as it is highly addictive and long-term usage has hazardous effects on the body._

Harry noted down the ingredients and instructions quickly, not really wanting to bring Snape’s wrath upon himself. He had a feeling that the man still hasn’t forgiven him for the incident from when Harry was ten years old. Or the one from when he was seven years old either.

He went to the ingredient cupboard to grab the few ingredients that he didn’t have in his potions toolkit and got to work. Beside him, Draco was set up and already crushing the ginger root, having the cinnamon powder already measured out.

“So why is Severus mad at you already?” Draco whispered to Harry, while adjusting his grip on the dagger when Harry was crushing the ginger root. “You’re angling your dagger too much, it will slip out of position and cut it instead of crushing it when you apply pressure.”

“Thanks,” Harry muttered gratefully, taking the Slytherin’s advice. He didn’t fool himself thinking he got Potions down as well as he did Ancient Runes. The root crushed easily. “He’s friends with my mum, works with her sometimes. I may have messed their potion room up a little when I was a kid.”

“That would explain it.” Draco smiled. “He’s my Godfather – I once begged him to let me help him put away ingredients. I accidentally put the Fire Seeds next to the Exploding Ginger Eyelash – nothing happened, but it took years for him to trust me again.”

Harry let out a quiet laugh, trying not to disturb the rest of the class (or more specifically, the teacher). “Sounds like Snape alright.”

They worked through the potion, Draco saving Harry from making mistakes a few more times. They weren’t big things, just ones that one could miss easily and luckily Draco had an eye for them. The blond boy worked through everything methodically, and his process ran like clockwork. By the end of the class, when the vast fumes swirled around the ceiling like mist, Draco had a perfect potion. Harry did too, but he credited his success to Draco. When they were bottling the potions into the glass phials, Professor Snape walked around the room and made a dismissive noise when he saw Harry’s work. Harry counted that as a win.

They did end up spending the last few moments of class trying their potions. When swallowing his, Harry relished the spicy taste that warmed his throat. The warmth filled his stomach, as if he had a miniature sun in there, and extended to every part of his body. Suddenly he felt awake, relaxed and ready to take on the world. Hermione and Draco looked like they were feeling the same thing, although it seemed like Pansy’s potion wasn’t made fully correctly (it was a shade lighter than it was meant to be). The poor girl almost threw up as she tried to stomach the rotten fish taste.

Fortunately for Pansy, and unfortunately for the rest of them, Professor Snape required all of them to take the antidote to the potion before they all left. The Professor mentioned something about how he wasn’t about to unleash them onto Hogwarts with the potion in their systems as there wouldn’t be any school left in two days. Begrudgingly, they all swallowed the antidote and allowed the warmth to leave them.

Harry left Potions feeling exhausted, which was a strange feeling to have after class. The brain power and precision required for him to create passable potions was truly exhausting, and the antidote did not help matters at least. He wished he faked drinking it, just so he could feel a little more alive. He hurried to the Gryffindor Common Room, hoping to catch a quick nap before dinner was served – and counted his blessings that it was Friday.

…

Harry slept through dinner, curled into one of the worn armchairs by the fireplace. When his fellow Gryffindors arrived to collapse in the common room due to a food coma, Harry woke up cranky and hungry. He muttered to himself, regretting his decision to nap, as he rarely did it before. He wasn’t used to it, so it made him even less refreshed. He dragged himself up to the dorm and pulled out the Marauder’s Map from his trunk, glad that his dad did leave him with the map of Hogwarts. It meant knowing where the kitchen is, and what was the passcode.

He flipped off Dean and Seamus as he walked past the group of seventh years, as the two of them were laughing about his terrible mood, and ducked behind the portrait hole before Hermione could say anything.

Harry managed to get in and out of the kitchens without bumping into anyone besides a few Ravenclaw third years in what seemed like a heated argument about a game of Gobstones. The elves in the kitchen were as accommodating as they were in his dad’s stories. Harry left sated, and with pockets and hands full of desert.

Just as he was approaching the Fat Lady, Harry remembered his mother’s letter. Deciding that he was too tired and full to do any sort of productive work that evening, he decided to investigate the mystery portrait that even the Marauders didn’t know about.

The Fat Lady was surprisingly alone when he approached her. Usually she had a whole entourage of painted ladies surrounding her at all times. He didn’t pay it much mind, even portraits got tired of each other sometimes.

“Do you happen to know where I can find Marcelline Blanchet’s portrait?”

The Fat Lady lit up like a Christmas tree.

“O ho ho, and why are you looking for dear Lady Marcelline’s portrait?” The Fat Lady leaned forward in the painting, resting her chin in the palm of her hand.

“I was told to ask her about the party of 1703, I know you’re good friends with her. That’s all I know really.” Harry shrugged. The Fat Lady seemed to consider his words.

“Well in that case, she’s just down that way.” The Fat Lady pointed to the corridor to the left of the portrait. “Her portrait is the one about four portraits down, you’ll recognise her by her lovely hairstyle.”

She wouldn’t say anything else, so Harry left her be. It seemed he would find out for himself why the Fat Lady looked so amused.

He wasn’t disappointed.

Lady Marcelline Blanchet was quite the individual. Pale, with a round face, she wore dark party clothes with heavy gold embellishment. Her hair was pale, possibly a wig, which was a popular look in the past. A pointed hat had a sheer black veil cascading from the top of it and down her back. It reflected light delicately when she moved. She also had two long horns growing out of her head. They appeared to be made out of her hair, but Harry’s head was boggled as to how that would work.

It was strange to think that this was a witch that once lived, even considering the strange fashions that were popular among witches and wizards.

“Lady Blanchet?” He asked cautiously. The witch in the portrait noticed him, and a wide smile spread across her rouged cheeks.

“Hello young man! It’s been a long time since a handsome boy like you has visited me.” She spoke with a mild accent, French if he was not mistaken. “What has brought you to me?”

“My mum actually.” Harry admitted. “She told me to ask about the party of 1703? Does that mean anything to you?”

“That was a fine party.” The French witch laughed. “I organised it in mid-summer, oh how wonderful it was! So many of my neighbours turned up, they were so in awe with my magic! They were muggles you see, even basic cleaning charms were a spectacle to them – and I do love spectacles! It’s such a shame that it was my last party, those government folks really do not have a sense of humour. However, you’re not here to hear an old witch talk about her glory days.”

She sighed heavily, as if wanting nothing more but to continue with her story. Harry, curious as to where it was going, made a mental note to come back and question her about it. He had no idea how she got away with what seemed like multiple parties that mixed muggles and magic – the Statue of Secrecy was created to keep those separate.

“Now, not many people know about this little secret I’m about to show you. It’s a part of Hogwarts that sadly fell out of fashion – or was it banned, and then forgotten? I cannot remember, but it is such a shame. Next time you want to come here, just say ‘ _panem et circenses’_. Enjoy yourself young man!”

Her portrait swung open, just like the Fat Lady does. Beyond it, was a long corridor that looked like it didn’t have an end. Curious and excited, Harry stepped in, remembering to thank the portrait (“Oh don’t thank me young man! Such a gentleman.”).

The corridor seemed to take impossible turns. Harry wasn’t sure where in the castle he was, as realistically the corridor took some of the space that was the Gryffindor common room. It did at one point make him go down a few stairs, and take a few turns, but in his excitement, it felt like a relatively short journey. There wasn’t much to see around him, just torches keeping the place lit, and dust gathering on the stone floor. It was when he finally saw a door that his heart truly soared.

Harry sped up, quickly casting spells that checked for traps on the door. He was in Hogwarts and his mother did tell him about the place in a roundabout way, however he wasn’t about to let old habits die. All of his spells came out negative, the place was clean. Happy with himself, he pulled the door open.

He was greeted with a common room. It was large, bigger than the Gryffindor one, and decorated in deep hues of purple. Plush arm chairs and loveseats were scattered about the place, thick tapestries covering the walls. Shelves lined some of the walls, dusty and half-empty. Harry noticed a few dusty bottles of Firewhiskey and Wine on some of the shelves, as well as some books and scrolls. A fireplace had an inviting fire crackling in it, emitting a warm glow on the room.

What truly got Harry’s attention though was in the middle of the room.

In the middle of the room, was the usually perfectly poised Draco Malfoy – his uniform dishevelled, hair falling out of the usually neat style. He was sat cross-legged on the floor, a cauldron in front of him, a frown deeply set into his pointed face. He seemed to be scrawling furiously on a piece of parchment, and he had some ink staining his nose. Potions ingredients were scattered on the floor to his right, and some sort of instructions and a drawing of a chart were levitating in the air just to his left.

Harry let the door behind him fall shut. Draco looked up, giving a perfect impression of a deer caught in the headlights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A little shorter than last time, but I really wanted that cliffhanger in there! Some world-building in this one, I had a lot of fun researching stuff for this chapter and altering/adding to it to fit my AU. 
> 
> Potion of the Sleepless Mind is actually a D&D 5e Homebrew Item (found via D&D Wiki). I took the idea of it and expanded on it, to create what it is in this chapter. I struggled with figuring out what potion to use for the seventh years, as we don’t know what the curriculum would actually be for that year :/ So I chose to improvise! (direct link: https://www.dandwiki.com/wiki/Potion_of_the_Sleepless_Mind_(5e_Equipment) )
> 
> The idea of the painting of Marcelline Blanchet actually comes from HEXRpg – which is an old-as-internet-itself Harry Potter RPG. I got into it for a few weeks, purely because I loved how the ‘classes’ had actual textbooks/lessons written by the users. Marcelline Blanchet comes from ‘Magic in Art’, but again I took some artistic liberty with it. I tried to find out who the original painting she’s based on is by, or where she comes from, but I had no luck. If you head over to the Magic in Art – First Year 2016-2017 textbook over at Hex though, you’ll be able to see it. It’s lesson 15 – A Horned Witch! Alternatively, here's a direct link to just the painting: http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HZPzhZGNxnY/VhnMriDUneI/AAAAAAAACeE/Asb2aDsOEMY/s1600/265dc85a8a48d854fa9adfdd1d3fe8a6.jpg)
> 
> Again, hope you enjoyed this chapter and I would love to hear your feedback.


	6. Paper Crane

They stared at each other in bewilderment for a while. Harry thought that Draco looked so much different, blinking owlishly at him and looking like an actual teenager. It made him appear a little bit more human, more than just a perfect Wizard and Head Boy.

It was Draco that broke out of the shock first. His eyebrows rose to his hairline, and he ran a hand through the blond strands in an attempt to smooth the hair out.

“Potter? What are you doing here? No one is supposed to be here.”

“I can see that.” Harry replied, voice laced with amusement seeing Draco try to straighten out his uniform in a hurry. “Don’t worry, my mum owled me that there was some secret behind a painting, turns out it was this place. What is this room anyway? Looks like a common room.”

“That’s because it is,” Draco huffed, pulling himself up to stand up straight. His cheeks were tinged with pink, Harry noticed. “It’s meant to be an all-houses common room, apparently alumni decades ago used it for partying among other things.”

That would explain having Marcelline Blanchet as the portrait guardian, and the close proximity to the Gryffindor dorm. “So, all houses used to hang out here? That’s pretty cool. It’s a shame that no one does it anymore.”

“Rivalry got too serious a few years in a row, it probably fell out of fashion. No one uses it anymore, especially for the intended purpose.”

Harry hummed in agreement, strolling around the room. Besides the door he entered through, there were three more – one on each wall. There was a carving of each of the house mascots above each door too; lion for Gryffindor, snake for Slytherin, eagle for Ravenclaw, and badger for Hufflepuff. Those seemed to be the only house related items in the room. The rest of it tried its best to be as neutral as possible, it seemed. Harry presumed that each door lead to a portrait close to the other house entrances, which would make sense in terms of accessibility. He wondered if they all had the same password.

“This is where you disappear off to, to work on your projects, isn’t it? Pansy and Blaise can’t find you, because they don’t know about this room.”

“Yes, you got me there.” Draco smiled guiltily. “I like to work in peace, which can be hard in a common room full of people. You can only do so much in an abandoned classroom too, I couldn’t leave my things when I wasn’t there. My Father mentioned the existence of this room, although actually finding it was quite the task since he only heard rumours of it.”

Harry stepped up towards the shelves while listening to Draco. As he previously noticed, they were mostly empty – there were a few bottles of alcohol scattered about (ancient, Harry wasn’t sure if it was even still okay to drink), and scrolls and books that he was far more interested in. He pulled out what looked like a journal from one of the lower shelves: a brown leather book with extra pages slotted in haphazardly. He opened it at a random page, hearing the aged spine creak. Noticing the handwriting, he smiled.

“You weren’t the only one. This is my mum’s handwriting.” Harry turned, to show Draco the journal. It was open on one of her failed potion experiments, which she documented with such energy that Harry could read the notes in her voice. A soft smile fell on his face, homesickness tugging at his heart. “Looks like she got the same idea as you.”

“Not just her. This room wasn’t used often, but in recent times it seems it saw a fair few experiments. The Weasley twins – they own a joke shop in Diagon Alley now – were brewing here too.” Draco pointed to another corner of the room. There, there were stacks of broken quills and crumpled up parchment. A small cauldron with burn marks and a large hole in the bottom looked like it was being used as a makeshift bin. Above it, stuck to the tapestry with a sticky charm, were notes and diagrams. Nothing that revealed production secrets of the Weasley Wizard Wheezles wares, just ideas for pranks that could be nevermore. A small part of recent Hogwarts history, never to be seen by the public eye.

“That’s Ron’s brothers, right?”

“Yes, Fred and George Weasley. Resident menaces and pranksters. It’s rumoured that they’re the reason Headmistress McGonagall’s hair has fully turned grey.” Draco said. “She must be glad they graduated. Hogwarts isn’t the same without them though, no one can beat their pranks. Not for the lack of trying though.”

Harry glanced over at Draco, who was making a displeased face. Clearly, trying to deal with wannabe pranksters that tried to live up to the Weasley twin legacy wasn’t all fun and games. Harry snorted at the look, not even bothering to look apologetic when Draco stared at him appalled.

“Don’t you laugh at my misery. I’d like to see you try wrangle them.”

“If you can’t beat them, join them.”

Draco stared at him blankly. Harry grinned.

Eventually, Draco reluctantly returned to his experiment. Harry awkwardly hanged around, wanting to look through Lily’s school notes. It seemed like his mother was a lot less organised than she was now, as her notes were in no particular order. At one point, he started reading what looked like a Charms journal, which quickly turned into a diary sort of journal. The second he saw Lily’s rant about James being ‘insufferable, but kind of cute’, he shut the book and stashed it on the highest shelf. He did not want to read all about his parents’ love life.

“I just realised that I’m intruding on your space.” Harry said, as it dawned on him after a while of being in the room. Draco, fully concentrating on his work, didn’t look like he was completely paying attention to what the Gryffindor was saying.

“Hm.” He grunted.

“If I knew someone else was using this place as a quiet space, obviously I wouldn’t have come here.”

“Potter, what are you babbling about?”

“I’m intruding on your space? You found this place first.”

Draco turned his head until he was facing Harry, looking at the boy as if he grew an extra head.

“You found this place too, without me telling you about it. You have just as much right to be here as I do.” Draco explained. “The only reasons I haven’t told Pansy and Blaise about here is because I see them often enough as it is, and they would actively try to distract me from my work. I don’t see you doing that.”

“You sure?”

Draco raised an eyebrow in a semi-bored expression. “Potter if I wanted you out of here, trust me I would not hesitate to tell you.”

Harry visibly relaxed at that, his shoulders dropped and he straightened out his back. A small smile played on his lips, clearly happy to hear it.

“You don’t need to tell me twice.” He said.

“Good.” Draco agreed. “Besides, this will be the perfect place to research the Chamber of Secrets undisturbed.”

With that, the conversation was dropped. Draco returned to whatever experiment he was doing. Every so often, he let out a frustrated sigh and furiously wrote things down on parchment. Harry settled on one of the sofas, reading one of his mother’s scrolls of notes, hoping that he won’t find anymore of her diary entries. He also kept glancing back at Draco, curious in how differently the Slytherin behaved in the room. It almost felt like two completely different people, although there were quirks there that were also in Draco’s public persona. Harry wasn’t sure why, but he found the other boy and everything he did fascinating.

…

Saturday morning came with guilt heavy in Harry’s stomach from the moment he woke up. When he returned to the common room the previous day, he went straight to bed. He didn’t work on Free Transfiguration at all the previous day, and he had a small mountain of homework to get through as well. He vaguely remembered promising Hermione to finally go through the Ancient Runes homework (and Arithmancy, and Charms…) today. There was the essay Harry needed to catch up on for Snape, which made him groan and bury himself back into the soft duvets. It was the first day since his arrival at Hogwarts that the bed felt so inviting and he had a feeling it was a lot to do with him not wanting to face the world, rather than suddenly becoming more comfortable for him.

There was so much to do and so little time. Really, the only thing he wanted to do was find Draco and research the Chamber of Secrets. He couldn’t though. Not when the guilt was eating him so bad.

Unsurprisingly, he was up before the rest of his dorm. By the time that Ron and Seamus were crawling out of bed and heading to breakfast, Harry was already finished with his and in the common room working. He pulled out all his textbooks, and a ridiculous amount of parchment. He wrote down a list of everything he needed to do, and his stomach dropped even further at the length of it. It was only the first week, how did this happen?

He really hoped Hermione came down sometime soon, as without her nagging him, he seriously doubted his ability to finish it all.

Harry was reading a paragraph in the Charms textbook for the fifth time in a row, when Hermione appeared. She wasn’t wearing her uniform, instead clad in muggle fashion – a lightweight sweater and jeans. Her hair was pulled out of her face, into a thick braid at the nape of her neck, with flyaway strands peeking out at her hairline. She stood over Harry, her school back slung over her shoulder, an amused smirk playing on her face.

Harry looked up, eyes shining like Christmas came early.

“Okay, clearly this isn’t working.” She said, putting one hand on her hip. “Meet me in the library in about half an hour, I’m just going to get some breakfast first.”

Relieved, Harry started to pack up his things, hoping the library was already open. He threw them haphazardly into the school bag, grateful for the featherlight charm on it. Almost all of his textbooks were crammed in there, along with more parchment, quills and ink than he has ever seen in his life. He wasn’t about to run back to the dorm half-way through the session to get more things. The faster he got through the assignments, the faster he can get back to working on the Free Transfiguration to win the bet. Tuesday was approaching faster than he thought.

Harry got through the portrait hole, the Fat Lady asking him if he had any luck with the bet yet (who even told her?). He mumbled out an incoherent response before quickly walking away, heading towards the library. It was still early morning, and anyone else that was awake was probably heading to breakfast so the corridors were deserted. Harry was grateful for that, as he wasn’t paying much attention.

“Mister Potter.”

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard his name, instinct making him go into a defensive stance and pull out his wand. He quickly noticed that he was pointing his wand at Professor McGonagall, and quickly lowered it. His cheeks turned crimson in embarrassment.

“Sorry Professor, habit.” He laughed shakily, putting away his wand.

“A very good habit, no need to apologise.” The Transfiguration Professor said. He was behind Harry, having come out from the corridor attached to the one Harry was walking. Clearly, he was heading to breakfast from a different part of the castle. “I heard about your wager with Mister Malfoy.”

“You too?” Harry groaned. How did everyone know about it? He felt the pressure to win rising inside him, which was not a good feeling.

“Yes, along with the rest of the school. News travel fast at Hogwarts.” He looked very amused. “How are you fairing with it?”

Harry looked away from Professor McGonagall, his head hung in shame. “Still haven’t got it.” He mumbled.

“Hmm,” The Professor hummed. “You know Mister Potter, my door is always open if you need help. I can give you some pointers if you wish.”

“No!” Harry exclaimed quickly, blushing at his sudden outburst. “I mean, no thank you Professor. I can do it.”

Professor McGonagall chuckled lightly, nodding.

“I can understand Gryffindor pride.” He smiled. “In that case, best of luck Mister Potter. My offer still stands, if you wish to take it.”

“I won’t need it.” Harry said, suddenly filled with determination. He wasn’t about to cheat by trying to get help. His pride and reputation were on the line, and he didn’t want to owe Draco a favour. He barely knew the other boy for a week, but he knew enough that he would have something devious in mind for the favour.

The Transfiguration Professor bid Harry goodbye, turned on his heel and walked off in the general direction of the Great Hall. Harry stood in the same spot for a moment longer before continuing towards the library.

It seemed like Harry wasn’t having the best of luck, as when he got to the library it was closed. There was a note on the door that it will open a little later, as Madame Prince needed to go to the Hospital Wing for a check up. Harry checked the time, and noticed he had about forty-five minutes to wait. Sighing, he went to sit down in one of the alcoves near the library and waited.

Harry pulled out his Transfiguration textbook from his bag, and opened it to the Free Transfiguration chapter. He crammed his class notes between those pages and decided that maybe it was time to read through them for clues.

He immediately regretted it, and cursed his past self for atrocious note taking. He didn’t note down much that was relevant to what was needed, and he had to sift through inches of parchment that were just scribbles and doodles. At one point he found a paragraph that could possibly be useful, but for some reason he stopped writing it mid-way through a sentence. After a good while trying to decipher the notes, he slammed the Transfiguration textbook shut with them in it. Glaring at it, he threw it across the corridor in frustration. It hit a suit of armour with a loud bang, and an even bigger crash followed as the armour fell to the floor in pieces.

“I don’t think that’s what people mean when they say, ‘knowledge is power’.” Said the helmet.

Harry grunted, and slid off the alcove seat and stalking towards the armour. He picked up his textbook from between the steel pieces and collected the notes that fell out of it. Once that was retrieved, he flicked his wand and the armour reformed into one piece.

Sighing, he returned to the alcove. Pulling his legs up onto the seat, he threw the textbook back in the bag and leaned his head back against the stone. Perhaps he was going about it the wrong way. He was trying parchment to fairy, which clearly wasn’t working. Was the spell limited to fairies? They had very limited magic, so technically it should work. Was it because they were humanoid and the magic didn’t like that?

Maybe he should go back to the goblet to Murtlap route, until he fully understands the spell. It was ridiculously frustrating though, he should know it by now. Regardless of his workload, he already could cast the spell for non-magical animals. Why wasn’t he getting it?

Harry closed his eyes, allowing the sinking feeling of dread to wash over him. He was still feeling guilty, even more so after the talk with Professor McGonagall.

His wallowing in self-pity was interrupted sometime later, when Hermione approached the library with Madame Prince. It seemed that the girl bumped into the librarian on the way. Harry jumped to his feet, gathering his things and met the two women by the library doors.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had students this eager to come to the library this early on a weekend.” Madame Prince commented as she vanished the note and unlocked the doors.

“We have plenty of work to do,” Hermione replied.

The Librarian nodded, and walked towards her desk. Harry on the other hand followed Hermione to the back of the library, where the girl sat them down at a small table by an open window. The space was small, tucked in-between the bookshelves, but bright and inviting. A soft breeze floated through the window and the September sun gave them plenty of natural light.

The two of them settled in, and started on the assignments. Hermione naturally was much further ahead than Harry was, so for the first while she was doing some extra curricular work as he finished the Ancient Runes essay. That one went easily enough, as Harry was most comfortable with it. Majority of it was things he already knew, backed up by quotes from _Spellman’s Syllabary_ and a few chosen texts from Blishen and Harja. It still took some time to write it all down, especially since he was rushing, so he kept making accidental spelling mistakes and spilling ink onto his parchment. When he handed his manuscript to Hermione, he cringed a little – he knew that he would have to rewrite it neatly. Especially when he read Hermione’s, which was neatly written up and mostly correct. He only found one part where she accidentally translated _Tiwaz_ as _Algiz_.

Harry was handed back his essay with parts where Hermione corrected his punctuation and grammar, but without other mistakes. Happy with that, Harry ticked it off his list and decided he would rewrite it onto fresh parchment once he gets all of his other homeworks done.

The rest of the day passed in a similar way. Harry slowly got through some of his checklist – he still had the Potion’s assignment to do tomorrow, as well as read what he missed in Defence. It took a long time, and Harry kept getting distracted. Every so often he stood up to go have a walk between the bookshelves, just to do anything that wasn’t reading or writing. He kept starting longingly out of the window, itching to be done with work. However, he persisted due to the combination of his pride and guilt eating him up; and Hermione looking like she was about to hit him with the nine-hundred-page long copy of  _Numerology and Grammatica_.

It’s not like he found the work difficult – he vaguely knew most of the content. Rowan made sure of that. However, Harry never did pay attention to most of the details (the things that stuck were mostly practical). He also found researching and writing down long essays to be tedious and not very rewarding, so the whole process was sort of like a personal hell for him.

Just before dinner, Harry pulled out his task checklist, to see how far along he was.

_For Merlin’s Sake, Get This Done List:_

  * _Golpalott’s Third Law, 12 inches_
  * _Similarities between ingredients and methods for brewing sleep-altering potions, 12 inches_
  * _Ancient Runes translation essay DONE (write up neat copy)_
  * _Comparison between Jabir ibn Hayyan’s Takwin Theory and Juno Jordan’s Modern Theory. 15 inches. DONE_
  * _History of Magic – Goblin Wars Essay (no need to turn in?)_
  * _Astronomy – Complete Star Chart (WEDNESDAY)_
  * _Defence – catch up (Ask Hermione?)_
  * _Ten different uses for the common household cleaning charms that are not cleaning your house. 10 inches. DONE_
  * _TRANSFIGURATION BET_



He pursed his lips, feeling like he’s not done enough. He would have to work on the Potions’ essays tomorrow, and ask someone in his History of Magic class (that wasn’t Hermione) to see if it was worth doing the homework. It certainly didn’t feel like Binns would even acknowledge it.

Harry wasn’t happy with his progress, but it would have to do for one day. He would actually pull his hair out if he had to read through another thousand-page-book to find the one sentence he needed, or if he had to write another line. After dinner, he would only work on the Transfiguration bet, as that was coming to a close. Besides that, he was done.

When Hermione and Harry entered the Great Hall at dinner, Harry almost salivated at the smells. They only had some biscuits that Hermione took from breakfast around lunch time, so by the time they got to dinner, they were both starving. They slid into place at the Gryffindor table and tucked in eagerly.

Harry didn’t really pay attention to what was going on around him, too busy packing far too much food onto his plate. Everything looked delicious and was just the right temperature to dig right in. He hummed happily as the bite of roast chicken almost melted in his mouth. Nothing would ever beat Hogwarts food for him.

Just as dessert appeared and Harry was about to cut himself a large slice of banoffee pie, he noticed a small parchment crane fly under his arm and land right in the middle of the plate. He blinked at it owlishly, in his tired and worn out state not really comprehending it fully. After a second, he picked it up and unfolded the crane.

_Got a reply from Grandfather faster than expected. Tried to find you earlier, but it seems you actually started to take your studies seriously. I’d say to meet tonight, but I think you might just fall asleep on me. Meet me at noon tomorrow, all-house common room? – D.M._

Harry read through the note twice, excitement soaring inside him. A reply from Draco’s grandfather meant progress on the Chamber of Secrets mystery, which was far more important to him than any of the homework he planned to do tomorrow. Harry turned in his seat, craning his neck to locate Draco on the Slytherin table. The blond boy was talking amiably with some Slytherins, but caught Harry’s eye quickly. He quirked his eyebrow in response, and smirked when Harry nodded in agreement.

Enthusiasm bubbling inside him, Harry turned back to face the pie. A wide smile was plastered on his face as he cut himself a piece that would definitely send him into a food coma for hours afterwards. He couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Plotlines slowly moving forward! Also, more Draco & Harry interaction, can you tell that I’m going for a slow-burn here? :P I’m super stoked with the future chapters, I have quite a few pages of plot already planned out.  
> Also, fun fact, Harry writes task checklists exactly like me. Random capitalization, underlines and questions included.


	7. Duels

_Grandson,_

_Your letter came as a pleasant surprise, as in recent years owls from you become less frequent. I hope that the lack of them is due to you choosing to dedicate your time to your studies._

_I commend you on your interest in the subject of history, the knowledge that the past gives us will be vital for you when you become Lord Malfoy. Our ancestry is of great value to wizardkind as you know, and it is favourable for you to look into it. However, I am curious as to why you are querying on such a specific subject._

_You must understand that 1945 was a different time. We were affected by the Muggle war, and had our own conflicts as well. It shaped the world we live in today, for the better or the worse. It was during that time that many of our values were becoming suppressed, and we saw an increase of mudbloods integrating with wizardkind._

_There were more important things to fight for than some mudblood who got killed. Plenty of our own good Purebloods were dying, including our own family. I did not care to remember the name of some girl that died in a bathroom, doomed to haunt it forevermore. There isn’t much you can learn from that._

_As I previously wrote, I am delighted that you are taking history seriously. I’ve attached a manuscript by Septimus Malfoy, perhaps it would be more valuable to you as the Heir to read his accounts of when he served as advisor to Minister Osbert. Do let me know how you get along with it._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Grandfather_

The letter was signed Lord Abraxas Malfoy in beautiful cursive calligraphy. Harry read through it a few times, trying to gather as much information as he could. It seemed like Abraxas Malfoy had a lot more to say between the lines, which was something Harry was unfamiliar with. Most people he knew wrote openly, preferring their words to be clear to everyone that read them.

“He seems like quite the character.” Harry commented.

“You can say that again,” Draco snorted, leaning his head back against the sofa armrest. They were back in the all-house common room, with Draco spread across one of the loveseats. He had one of his arms over on the backrest of the sofa, with his legs crossed at the ankle and propped up on the opposite armrest. Harry chose to sit cross-legged in one of the armchairs, which he pulled closer to where Draco was sat. “Grandfather is very much set in his ways, which much to his disappointment society no longer accepts. Not that he cares really, he still lives with hope that Wizardkind will return to ‘the old ways’. There’s a reason I’ve been avoiding him. He’s convinced that after graduation I will take up the Minister’s advisor position and do what he says.”

“And I assume you’re not going to?”

“Of course, I won’t. I have very little interest in politics and it will do nothing for me, or my family.” Draco replied. “I won’t become Lord Malfoy until my Father’s death, and he’s still in his prime. The only reason he got the title before Grandfather’s death is because Abraxas caught dragonpox and barely survived it. I’m still convinced that man is going to outlive us all.”

 “So, what are you going to do then?”

“I could sit around and do nothing. We are wealthy enough.” Draco pondered. “Although I think I would go crazier than some of my Aunts if I actually did that. I want some kind of profession, not sure what exactly yet.”

“Whatever it is, I’m sure you’ll be great at it. Hard to deny that, seeing what the professors say about you.” Harry replied.

“Thanks. Back to the matter at hand though – I wouldn’t be surprised if Grandfather actually didn’t care about the girl’s identity, it would be something he would do. However, with the way this is worded, it sounds like he’s trying to divert my attention from the topic, and not just for my own well-being.” Draco said. He sat up and plucked the letter out of Harry’s hands. He pointed at one of the lines, turning his head to address Harry. “What he did do though, was accidentally tell us exactly what we needed.”

“The girl left a ghost behind, didn’t she?” Draco nodded.

“Presumably. The problem is, Hogwarts is one of the most haunted places in the country. There are literally hundreds of ghosts here – and I never heard of a ghost that was a dead student.” Draco frowned, attempting to remember if he has ever stumbled upon such a ghost. “One would think it would be one of the biggest talking points of the school.”

“It’s obvious the whole thing was covered up so it wasn’t talked about for years on end. Maybe they forbidden the ghost from talking about it too.” Harry pointed out. “I guess we’ll just have to ask around and search girls’ bathrooms until we hopefully find her. How many of those are there in the castle anyway?”

“Too many,” Draco said grimly. “We’re going to get so many weird looks, aren’t we?”

“Yep.”

…

In the end, they chose to put off their search for bathrooms for a while. Instead, they decided that they needed to go back to their research, hoping to find something there that didn’t require them searching for girl ghosts in girls’ bathrooms. Draco did say that if he hears anything worthwhile during his Head Boy rounds, he would investigate, but otherwise it would be put on a backburner. Harry wholeheartedly agreed, thinking of his work load as well. He didn’t have time for a wild search with no end.

Draco was kind enough to guide Harry through the potions assignments. He didn’t give him the answers, but rather, briefed him on what Snape told the class before the summer. He also lent Harry his personal copies of some useful books (so he didn’t have to search the library for them), and charmed paper cranes to peck him in the forehead whenever he spaced out from writing the essay.

“Oh also, I wouldn’t bother with the History of Magic essay.” Draco pointed out, looking through Harry’s to-do list while the latter boy was working. “I haven’t done a History of Magic essay since second year. Binns never checks them – so long you study before the January mock exams, and the NEWTs, you will be fine.”

Relieved, Harry went back to comparing the ingredients between the Draught of the Living Death, Dreamless Sleep, and Potion of the Sleepless Mind.

…

Sunday came to an end much too fast, as far as Harry was concerned. He finished the Potions assignments in the late evening, and fell asleep late into the night while trying to read more on Free Transfiguration. He woke up, startled, curled around his textbook and still in his day clothes when the first light trickled in through the window.

Pulling himself out of bed, he caught a look of himself in the mirror while going to the bathroom. His clothes were all rumpled and creased, and there was an ink stain on the collar of his jumper. Red lines marred his cheek from where he rested it on the side of his textbook. His hair was an even bigger mess than usual, his glasses askew slightly. There were bags under his eyes that were not there before. He didn’t look good, and he remembered exactly why he didn’t want to go to school in the first place.

Resigned with his fate, he hopped in the shower and tried to scrub off the ink stains that somehow managed to get on his elbow. It was a stubborn spot and wouldn’t come off, so he decided just to leave it. His uniform would cover it anyway.

He gathered his things after getting dressed, and left the dormitory. He was in a particularly sour mood, remembering that the bet would finish tomorrow. He was still nowhere close to getting the spell correct.

To his surprise, he found Hermione heading to breakfast at the same time as he was.

“What made you get up so early?”

“Good morning, Harry. I always try to get up a little bit earlier on Monday mornings, I have a meeting with Headmistress McGonagall before classes start. Head Girl business.”

Harry nodded in understanding, the two walking down towards the Great Hall.

“How did you find your first week at Hogwarts?” Hermione asked a little bit later on, between bites of scrambled egg.

“Terrible,” Harry admitted, laughing. “Don’t get me wrong, I love that I made the friends I did, and I’m doing some cool things. I do hate actually going to most of the classes though, and I’m not used to this amount of schoolwork. I knew I made the right choice with the apprenticeship and this just proved my point more.”

“I can’t promise less work - it is our final year! - but hopefully it will become more manageable. I’m here if you need help, Harry.” Hermione said sincerely. “Both as Head Girl, and your friend.”

A warmth spread through Harry’s chest at Hermione’s admission. It always felt good to know he got support from the people he cared about. In the past, it was mostly his parents and Rowan as he was the closest to them. Having friends his own age that he felt like he could actually have a connection with felt incredible. He couldn’t help but give Hermione a hug for that, at which she squeaked in surprise.

“What’s this for?” She laughed.

“For being totally awesome.”

“I can accept that.”

…

Classes were a blur. They concentrated mostly on theory for some reason, which made for long and boring lessons. A lot of note-taking and textbook reading that Harry did not appreciate. He felt like he was wasting his time, and absolutely did not learn from his Free Tranfiguration notes fiasco. His parchment still looked like a five-year-old scribbled all over it.

Instead of actually paying attention, Harry chose to read the thin notebook Hermione gave him. It was a copy of her notes from Professor Quirrell’s extracurricular learning and was far more interesting than the numerology charts Professor Vector was analysing.

The only other thing that made Monday more bearable was Defence class. They had a shorter session near the end of the day, and Professor Quirrell announced it would be a practical. Harry eagerly jumped up from his seat when the Professor asked them to move their desks against the walls.

“We won’t be doing anything too strenuous, but from the looks on your faces I can tell a practical will be a welcome change for today. I’m guessing there was a lot of theory analysis today?” The class muttered in agreement. “Well, welcome to your seventh year, it’s only just the beginning.”

The Defence Professor paired them up at random – Hermione and Ron ended up in a pair, as did Draco and Pansy. Harry ended up in a pair with Blaise, who he didn’t really speak much with, but knew he was decent folk as Draco was close friends with him. He smiled warmly at the Slytherin boy, who returned a smirk.

“In Monday sessions, we will be having practical sessions on battle magic. Sometimes they will be replaced by a quiz or a practical test, but I will warn you ahead of time so do not worry.” Professor Quirrell took the stage. The seventh year students were crowding around the platform, stood with their partner. “We will be doing a quick exercise today, nothing too demanding as we don’t have a lot of time. This will be an exercise to test your team-work, creativity, and knowledge. In your pairs, you will be duelling another pair with a three-minute time limit.”

Professor Quirrell asked them to get up onto the stage. He then promptly hopped off it, and with his wand started to burn a large circle into the stone floor of the classroom. It glowed with a blue light when the shape was complete.

“This is your arena.” He pointed to the circle. “You win if you knock your opponents’ outside the parameter, or you knock their wand outside of the parameter. Just removing it out of their hands isn’t enough, as they can try to take it back if it’s still in the arena. If at the end of the three minutes you haven’t done either, we will determine who wins by who still has their wand in their hand. Otherwise, it will be a draw. At the end of each fight, we will have a short discussion on what each pair did well and what they could improve upon. Does that sound fair?”

Professor Quirrell used a spell to randomly pick who would be duelling each other, the set order appearing on large piece of parchment he summoned.

“We do not have an even number of pairs, so it seems Mister Crabbe and Miss Bulstrode will need another pair to volunteer to duel them. We can decide who that shall be once we get there. Now let’s begin, before we run out of time.”

The first two pairs stepped into the ring. Gregory Goyle and Lavender Brown moved to the right side of the ring, whilst a nervous looking Neville Longbottom joined Sally-Anne Perks on the left. The four of them drew their wands, waiting for Quirrell’s word to start. Neville kept glancing nervously at Sally-Anne, who paid him no mind and just looked determined to win.

“Poor Neville.” Dean laughed good-naturedly as he noticed the other boy’s mood. “He doesn’t feel confident with duelling as it is, and now he’s going to be worrying about impressing Sally-Anne so Hannah doesn’t think he’s an idiot.”

“What’s this about Sally-Anne and Hannah?” Harry asked. He vaguely remembered that there was a Hannah in his year – he heard the name mentioned in one of the classes he shared with the Hufflepuffs.

“Neville has the biggest crush on Hannah Abbott right now.” Dean explained. “Sally-Anne is her best friend, so of course she will tell her how the class went. This could go very well for Neville, or it could ruin his chances for losing to Goyle and Lavender of all people.”

Harry made a sound of understanding, and turned to watch the duel. Goyle seemed to be using spells that were simple, easy to cast but packed quite the punch. His downfall was his speed – with his wide shoulders and large body, he was quite slow in his speed and not very agile. Lavender quickly realised that, and decided to use Goyle as shield for the spells that were aimed at her, and did her best to stand up to the other two Gryffindors. She didn’t seem to have known, or mastered, a lot of the battle magic. At one point, she used a hair-growing charm on Sally-Anne, which made the girl’s fringe grow to cover her eyes and momentarily distract her.

Sally-Anne was doing remarkably well. She was quick to dodge most of Goyle’s spells, and was decent enough with her own spell-casting. However, she didn’t seem to try and work together with Neville during the fight at all, rather choosing to fight alone and leave him to do his own thing. That threw Neville off, on top of Sally-Anne being Hannah’s best friend. His spells were sloppy, and nervous, so when they hit the mark they weren’t full-force. In the last minute of the duel, he did seem to somewhat find his footing. The duel ended with both Lavender and Goyle knocked out of the ring – Neville was sending Tickling Charms at Lavender and Goyle to try and distract them, which drove them to the edge of the arena. It was then that Sally-Anne took it upon herself to use a Tripping Hex on Goyle. The Slytherin boy tripped over, and while stumbling he fell into Lavender. The girl fell out of the ring, and Goyle’s wand slipped out of his hand and rolled away from the arena as well, leaving Neville and Sally-Anne victorious.

Professor Quirrell made them shake hands with each other – Lavender looked quite disgruntled about that as she massaged her sore back from where she fell on it. Sally-Anne looked positively smug about it. As a class, they discussed the duel – pointing out that Lavender’s use of unusual spells for battle to be ingenious, and that Sally-Anne was doing well, but was completely ignoring Neville, among other points. Soon enough the next group was taking their places in the ring.

Harry took the switch-over time and used it to talk with Blaise about their own duel. They were going to fight Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan according to the list and were due after the next duel.

“What are your strong points? Any blind spots you need covering?” Harry asked, leaning against Quirrell’s desk.

“I’m not much of a fighter. I’d like to think I’m somewhat a pacifist.” Blaise smiled charmingly, flicking his dark curls back. “Although, I do have my moments. My preferred spells are ranged, rather than close-combat though.”

“Sweet,” Harry grinned. “I can distract and fight them up close, while you attack them from the back. I’ll try to keep them on the edge of the arena if I can while you do that. Sounds good?”

“Absolutely,” Blaise agreed. “Just get out of the way when I tell you to, or you might get caught in the crossfire.”

Hermione and Ron stepped into the arena whispering to each other, seemingly taking the time given to them from the previous fight to come up with a plan. They were followed by Draco and Pansy, who shared one confident look and took their places.

The fight was truly an art. Immediately as the start was announced, the four of them jumped into action. Pansy was closest to Hermione, so she immediately engaged her into the duel. Similarly, Ron and Draco immediately started to cast spells at each other. Within moments, Ron and Hermione were back-to-back in the middle of the arena, with Draco and Pansy circling them like vultures. Spells were shot back and forth, dodged and blocked with a _Protego._ The longer they fought, the more advanced spells came out.

Hermione’s aim was impeccable. If it weren’t for Pansy’s quick spellwork with Shield Charms, she would’ve hit bullseye every time. She had a calculating determination in her eyes, her wand movement quick and precise to match. Ron on the other hand, what he didn’t have in precision, made up on sheer ability to know what Draco’s next move was going to be. It felt like he was playing an elaborate chess match. Ron kept saying things to Hermione, strategizing on the spot as they kept switching duelling partners due to them circling around them. Hermione was quick to respond, never hesitating on anything Ron said.

Meanwhile, Draco had a flair to his spells that could only be achieved with years of practise. His spell work was smooth, more like a dance than a fight. There were no angular, harsh movements like Ron’s. All of Draco’s moves lead from one into the next, never stopping. He was an even match to Hermione’s precision and Ron’s quick-thinking, as was Pansy. She was a sneaky little thing, feinting and trying to trick Ron into thinking she was going to do the opposite of what she actually planned. Her small statue aided her in that, as she ducked and cast spells at Ron’s legs rather than chest, knowing that it would be less obvious.

The duel looked like it was going to be a draw, and Harry was staring in fascination at the battle in front of him, along with the rest of the audience. It was at just past the half-way part that Ron yelled for Hermione to duck, just as he did so himself. The spell that Draco cast that was aimed at him flew just above their heads, missing them by a hair length – and hitting Pansy right in the chest as she didn’t have time to react. The Slytherin girl was sent flying out of the arena, leaving Draco alone to fight their opponents.

At that point, it looked like Draco was done playing around. Soon after Pansy’s defeat, Ron was sent stumbling into the side lines. The ginger collected himself quickly, and was left shouting guidance and encouragement at Hermione. He could fully concentrate on figuring out a way to beat Draco from outside the arena – he was defeated, but he didn’t look like he was about to give up.

Hermione was alone in the arena fighting Draco. It was clear that the two of them were the top students of their year. The arena looked like a firework display with the amount of flashing lights hitting the magical barrier surrounding it, or the _Protego_ charms of either student. They were an even match, and obviously only a small slip up or stroke of luck would give either victory.

The fight felt like it was longer than three minutes, but the bell announcing the end of it rang that only that time has passed. Hermione and Draco lowered their wands, breathing heavily on either side of the arena. Applause and cheering erupted from the rest of the class, who were on the edge of their seats the whole time. There was no winner, but the fight itself was worth it. Harry was secretly glad it was a draw, as he didn’t want to hear either Hermione or Draco bragging for weeks on end about beating the other.

“It seems we have our first draw, congratulations to the four of you for the spectacular display of duelling techniques.” Professor Quirrell said, once the applause died down. “Mister Weasley, Miss Granger that was some wonderful team-work. I applaud you for the good use of your time, and strategizing ahead. Mister Weasley, you have some strong battle magic skills, and the tactical thinking you have is rare to see these days. You should consider a career with the Aurors, you would go far with them.”

“Thanks Professor. I won’t have the NEWTs for it though, I didn’t do Potions.” Ron smiled sheepishly.

“Hmm, perhaps Hit Wizards then.” He said. “If anything, you’d be more suited for that. They don’t have required NEWTs for their program, I suggest you look it up if you get the chance. It would be a shame to waste this talent.”

Ron made a non-committal noise, although he did look like he was thinking it over. Professor Quirrell quickly led the class to discussing the other points of the duel – Parvati Patil pointed out the precision of Hermione’s spells and how she seemed less tired than the rest of them. Harry was impressed when Hermione admitted that she mathematically calculates the exact power each spell she practised needs to work efficiently, and taught herself how to control it. She also said that she does quick calculations for the correct trajectory when aiming. Harry was immediately jealous of the mental maths skills Hermione possessed.

They quickly discuss Draco’s flawless skills while he tried not to preen like a peacock, and commented on Pansy’s sneaky choices. Lavender mumbled something about Pansy not playing fair – which Professor Quirrell quickly pointed out was part of the assignment.

“In the real world, people you will be duelling won’t be playing fair, Miss Brown. Even in duelling competitions, wizards will do anything to get an upper hand on the competition. You should pay attention to Miss Parkinson – perhaps you will learn something that will help you.”

Lavender looked like she swallowed a lemon for a long time afterwards. Harry couldn’t help but snort as he walked past her to get to the arena.

Harry and Blaise stood on the left side of the circle, with Dean and Seamus stood opposite with their wands drawn. It felt different to be stood inside the glowing line than watch from a safe distance – the area seemed smaller now that Harry was closer. Not that it mattered, he was used to tight places.

 Blaise took a step back to stand a little behind Harry. His wand was lowered slightly, and Harry noticed that he slipped marbles into his other hand and was playing with them. Neither Dean nor Seamus seemed to have noticed that.

“How are you with snakes?” Blaise asked quietly, as the class was settling down to watch. Professor Quirrell was stepping up to call start.

“I’m friends with some, aren’t I?” Harry replied.

“- and BEGIN!”

Immediately, Harry went into a defensive position, casting a strong shield over himself and Blaise. In good time too, as Dean and Seamus both shot at them just as fast. The spell lights flashed as they hit the shield, fizzling out into nothingness. Harry didn’t wait for another attack, instead shooting the Knockback Jinx at Seamus. He dodged it, but jumped back and closer to the edge, which was what Harry wanted.

Harry moved to the side, making sure to be the body shield between Blaise, Seamus and Dean. He just needed to keep them busy for whatever Blaise was planning.

_“Impedimenta!”_ Harry pointed his wand at Dean this time, who was closer. The jinx hit its target. Dean became immobilised, wand raised and half-way through casting a shield charm.

“Harry, move back now!”

He didn’t have to be told twice. Harry jumped back, just as the marbles Blaise was holding rolled towards Dean and Seamus. They circled around their feet just as Seamus cast the counterjinx on Dean. The boys noticed them and frowned as they looked down in confusion.

A flare of magic ensnared the marbles, coming from Blaise’s direction. Immediately, the marbles melted into another form – and clusters of hissing, irritated snakes slithered around Dean and Seamus’ feet. There were plenty of them there to keep the boys’ occupied, the mass climbing over their legs and nipping at their ankles. Multi-object transfiguration spell, which made sense as it was one of Blaise’s better subjects.

Dean looked positively green at the sight around him, yelling as he tried to get them away from him. Seamus was doing better, although not by much. He kept blasting the snakes away from him, sending them flying – some unfortunately in Dean’s direction.

They didn’t give up though. The two Gryffindors fought back as best as they could, exchanging blows with Harry and Blaise even with the snakes on their tails. It was weakening them though, as the creatures didn’t seem to lose numbers no matter what they did.

It was moments after Harry took a Stinging Hex to the wand arm that was directed at Blaise that everything came to an end. While side-stepping a curse, Seamus tripped over a snake and Blaise took that as his chance to dive from behind Harry and cast the blow that sent the Irish boy flying out of the arena. He then aimed at Dean, which missed, but Harry didn’t. Switching his wand to his other hand, he aimed at Dean a split second after Blaise – sending Dean’s wand out of his hand and into his own. He didn’t hesitate in throwing the wand outside the glowing circle, as Dean desperately dove to grab at it.

“Congratulations are in order, well done both teams.” Professor Quirrell said, helping Seamus back onto his feet. “Mister Potter and Mister Zabini take this win. Interesting use of Transfiguration there, Mister Zabini. Are those Weasley Wizard Wheezle’s Mass Marbles?”

“Yes Professor,” Blaise said, cancelling the transfiguration on the snakes. With a final hiss, they became marbles tumbling around the room. A quick spell later, they were safely back in his pocket.

“Good preparation skills and using your strengths. Don’t let me catch you using them in the corridors though, they are still Weasley merchandise and are prohibited. Also, that was some wonderful team work from both of you.”

“Thanks,” Harry grinned at the teacher, while returning Dean’s wand to him. “That was a mean Stinging Hex, Dean.”

“That was a mean everything, Harry. Did you have to put so much force behind that other Knockback Jinx? I’m going to have bruises for days.” The other Gryffindor laughed.

“Sorry, force of habit.” Harry smiled. It was true. The duel reminded him of working with his fellow treasure hunters, when they ended up in traps that required them to fight their way out. He just applied those same techniques to working with Blaise, which seemed to have paid off.

The part of the class that was in the audience quickly discussed the duel, pointing out the good things and the flaws of each person. Harry thought it was a good idea, as there were some things that the audience noticed that the class hasn’t, which he would be able to improve on later.

The elated feeling of winning the duel didn’t leave him even when Hermione and Draco were listing all the mistakes and wrong moves he made, as in the end he won. There would always be things he could do differently.

It was with that winner’s high that he left the class with after the final two duels. Parvati Patil and Daphne Greengrass fought against Theodore Nott and Tracey Davis, which ended with Theodore and Tracey winning. Parvati and Daphne had a flair for theatrics, and their opponents exploited that into quickly hitting them in their blind spots and leaving them wandless.

The last duel was Vincent Crabbe and Millicent Bulstrode, who ended up fighting Dean and Seamus. The latter two boys volunteered for it, as an attempt to heal their bruised egos after their loss. It was a tight call, due to the Gryffindors being tired from the previous duel, but they won in the end. Neither Vincent not Millicent looked too bothered about it the result though.

The happy feeling followed Harry until dinner, when it dawned on him that the bet was coming to an end the next morning. His stomach dropped at the thought, suddenly the feeling of winning at something becoming less important. The more he thought about it, the more he felt like a weight was being piled onto his shoulders, and he felt like he wouldn’t be able to stomach the delicious looking roast chicken that he piled onto his plate.

His Free Transfiguration reading wasn’t helping him all that much. Harry pulled out the textbook with his dinner, but the words were leaving his brain as soon as he read them.

What did it matter that he won at a Defence duel? They were quick, and Blaise did most of the work. Harry just supported him as best as he could. The win didn’t affect his grade, or the bet tomorrow.

Resigned, Harry pushed his plate away and grabbed his textbook. He got out of his seat, and bid everyone goodnight as he left for the dormitory to try and cram more work in. He didn’t want to go into the all-house common room, in fear of bumping into Draco (who he didn’t notice, but was staring at him from across the hall). Silencing spells and closed curtains would have to do in terms of privacy for studying.

It was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Quite the long one! Some important stuff happening, and some things just for fun (and partially to set up for the future!). Next chapter: the end of the bet! Is everyone as nervous as I am?  
> As always, reviews & comments are much appreciated! I read all of them and they make my heart go all warm and fuzzy.


	8. Bet

Tuesday.

It was nine-fifty-six in the morning when Harry realised he was seriously fucked.

It had been a literal week since the bet came to existence. He has yet to master the spell. It was impossible. What was he missing? Was he making some sort of basic mistake? Did he have to think about it differently? Did he have to pretend not to want the goblet to turn into a murtlap? Was he not powerful enough? Smart enough?

What was it?

What was he missing?

It just didn’t make sense.

Harry held back a frustrated scream, and fell back onto his pillows. He was up all-night reading and testing the spell. He must’ve cast it a thousand times over the past few hours.

Sleep deprivation was getting to him. His brain felt fuzzy – like he wasn’t entirely there. Lack of breakfast wasn’t helping either. He didn’t notice the time and forgot to go. His current state could also be the chalked up to the ridiculous strain he put on his magical core. He was desperately trying to ignore that.

He had thirty minutes to get to Transfiguration. Earlier, he elected against going to History of Magic. Not that he would be missed.

Somewhere between the sixth time his brain almost shut off and the start of History of Magic, he theorised that it was something to do with control and concentration. He couldn’t test it properly though. The spell was acting up due to the strain he put on himself, and he could almost hear Hermione’s disapproving lecture about the state he put himself in.

Harry could barely turn the goblet into a regular rat, never mind the murtlap.

At one point, he considered cheating out of desperation, and spent a whole two hours figuring out how to do that. It turned out that making the cheating method actually look somewhat believable involved multiple spells, statis charms, and far too much time and effort that he could afford to lose.

His entire body was heavy, as if his bones grew dense overnight. He could literally feel the dark circles sinking into his face. There was a weird taste in his mouth from not bothering to brush his teeth the night before. He had that dirty feeling on his skin that you only got if you stayed up all night, even if you were sparkly clean at the beginning of it- like there was a film of dirt covering his entire body.

He was a mess, and not to mention a failure.

However, he wasn’t a coward. He had to turn up to class. Maybe by some miracle the spell would work, since he had a vague grasp on what he maybe should be doing with it.

Grumbling, and already feeling defeated, Harry left the dormitory with only minutes to spare. He left behind a mess like a cyclone ran through the room, but it was the least of his concerns at that moment. He grabbed what books he remembered he needed for classes, although there was a big chance he forgot most of them. He wasn’t used to doing all-nighters, or cramming spells in such fashion. It affected him more than he thought it would.

Running on some sort of unholy combination of half a bag of Bertie Bott’s, and a lousy excuse of a Rennervate (worked the third time, and admittedly not his best idea as although the spell worked for all of two minutes, it made him even more tired after it broke), Harry reached the Transfiguration classroom.

Everyone stared at him as he walked in.

Harry made a wonderful re-enactment of a deer in front of a muggle car.

He saw Hermione staring at him disapprovingly from the front of the classroom.

Harry became acutely aware that he was wearing the previous day’s clothes, that he probably didn’t smell that great, and that his eye bags were so big they might as well be a holiday destination.

It was going to be a long day.

“Ah, Mister Potter.” Harry’s attention was snapped away from berating himself about looking like an idiot, and pulled towards Professor McGonagall. He was stood in front of the class, arms crossed and looking rather amused. “Since you are here, perhaps we could put an end to this bet of yours so everyone can stop gossiping and we could get on with what work I had planned for today. Please, do take your seat.”

Professor McGonnagall motioned to the desk Harry was sat in last week. Stomach sinking, Harry moved slowly towards the desk, where a goblet was already waiting for him. A part of Harry felt like the goblet was mocking him.

Harry pulled his chair out, which made a ridiculously loud screech as he dragged it on the stone floor. He winced at the noise, and quickly sat down to meet Draco’s eyes.

He registered the smug look plastered all over Draco’s face. It was hard to miss, actually. Harry had an image of the kneazle who got the cream flashing in his head while staring at the pleased curl to Draco’s lips. He scowled at the Slytherin boy, knowing that he had all rights to look pleased (even if technically he didn’t win yet).

 “Whenever you’re ready, Mister Potter.” Said Professor McGonagall.

It was as if Harry got tunnel vision. His eyes concentrated on the goblet in front of him, peripheral vision blurring until it was just a smear of colours. He could feel his heart beating in his chest. Sounds were more acute (which could be chalked up to side-effects of the failed spells he put on himself…). There was nothing in the world beyond him, the goblet and his wand.

He just had to get the spell correctly just once. It was a matter of willpower and concentration.

He had got this.

Harry concentrated on his core, praying to Merlin that it had that one last surge of power to give out like it always happened in the legends. Just one, small spell (much later, once the whole event was over, he swore that he could feel the magic building up inside him, empowering him to win the bet in the name of Gryffindor). He tightened his grip on his wand, trying to regulate his breathing. Thinking of the spell, he fought his desire to close his eyes, and tapped the goblet edge with the tip of his wand, imagining it turning into a murtlap.

The wood clinked against the metal.

Nothing happened.

Harry took in air sharply.

He thought of the murtlap again, hoping it was just a fluke.

Clink.

Nothing.

Again.

His wand tip let out a glow of light for a mere fracture of a second, before blinking out of existence.

Nothing.

Harry started to tap the goblet furiously, thinking intently of the murtlap.

_Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink.  Clink –_

_“Mister Potter.”_

Harry stopped, looking up owlishly. He was tired, and angry – exasperated? Perhaps a little bit dizzy. Or a lot. Why was everything so blurry? And spinning? It wasn’t working. Magic completely failed him when he needed it the most. Sure, he was partially to blame, but who didn’t do an all-nighter of studying before? Surely, he shouldn’t be failing this bad. It was one spell –

“Mister Potter, I will stop you now before you do anymore damage to yourself.” Professor McGonagall said, picking up the goblet and taking it away. Harry watched it as it disappeared, pointedly deciding not to look in Draco’s direction. “I do hope you learned your lesson with this. Magical core exhaustion is not to be trifled with. Neither is Mister Malfoy when it comes to wagers, it seems.”

Harry shrunk back in his seat. He finally made eye contact with Draco, who still had the smug smirk plastered all over his face – that is until core exhaustion was mentioned. Almost immediately his face dropped, and his face turned paler than usual.

“Do you know what you did wrong in terms of the spell, Mister Potter? Besides almost turning yourself into a squib, that is.”

“Uhh – I didn’t have enough control of the spell? My concentration was…off?” Harry mumbled, wishing he was anywhere else.

“Partially yes. The Free Transfiguration spell, as I said to you a week ago, takes near-perfect control for magical creatures. You can get away without as much of it to an extent, if you’re transfiguring into non-magical creatures, or if the item you will be transfiguring already has some magic.” The Professor said. “Remember, a spell is a conversation between yourself, and magic. It needs to clearly know what you’re asking. So, not only do you have to imagine the - let’s say murtlap. You also have to imagine the magic it holds within itself. This magic naturally isn’t truly the creature’s, but rather is borrowed from yourself. So, if you know that you don’t have as much reserve, or you cast a lot of spells, perhaps it isn’t the best idea to use it.

“Transfiguring a goblet into a rat wouldn’t take much. Imagine it like you’re sat right next to magic, and briefly telling it what you need. If you’re magically weaker, not paying attention enough or simply tired; magic is on the opposite side of the room and you’re yelling your intentions at it. In Mister Potter’s case, he wasn’t even in the same room, but rather trying to mime what he wants from a different continent.”

Harry felt incredibly stupid. He wished the floor opened up below him and swallowed him. He could feel Hermione’s disapproving stare from the other side of the room without even having to look in her direction. He didn’t dare look Professor McGonagall in the face, or Draco for that matter. He looked down, staring at Draco’s white-knuckled grip on the back of his chair.

“If you rested, rather than overexerting yourself, perhaps the spell would’ve behaved as you wanted it to.” Professor McGonagall said. “Now, I have a class to teach and you’re not in any state to do any magic at this point in time. Mister Malfoy, could you please escort Mister Potter to the Hospital Wing and inform Madame Pomfrey of the situation. She should keep him in for observation. I will have no objections from you Mister Potter, a blind man could see that you need rest and are not fit for being in classes.”

Begrudgingly, Harry gathered his things and made a beeline to follow Draco out of class. He wasn’t happy with the situation, however the thought of getting some sleep sounded good enough that he wasn’t about to argue being confined to a hospital bed for however long the Mediwitch demanded.

Draco hurried ahead, not checking if Harry was following him. It left Harry having to speed up to keep up with the Head Boy, as he was a little taller than Harry and definitely had the longer legs out of the two of them.

“Draco! Wait, slow down.”

Draco stopped suddenly, turning to Harry with a confused, worried expression.

“Huh? Sorry, I didn’t realise.” He said. “I just thought that it would be best if we got to the Hospital Wing as soon as possible.”

“I’m not dying, it’s fine. We don’t have to rush.” Draco pursed his lips disapprovingly. “Look, can we drop by the all-house common room before we go to the wing? I wanted to pick up some of Lily’s notes to read while I’m stuck. Don’t really fancy reading textbooks at the moment.”

“I suppose so.” Draco agreed slowly, after a moment for consideration. He seemed split between agreeing with Harry, and wanting nothing more than to get him to Madame Pomfrey for a check up as fast as possible.

They made their way to the common-room, using the Gryffindor entrance as it was the closest one. Lady Blanchet seemed thrilled to see them, and let them through while making them promise to come talk to her when they’re not so busy. It wasn’t long until the door closed behind them in the all-house common room.

It was then that Draco exploded.

Harry found himself with Draco standing far too close to him, clinging to his wrist like his life depended on it. His grey eyes were wide and watery, and it was clear that whatever glimpses of nerves that Harry managed to notice in his delirious state were just the top of the iceberg.

“Don’t do that again. Ever.” Draco said, his tone wavering more than Harry has seen it since he met the other boy. “Magical exhaustion is serious and you actually willingly put yourself through it.”

“Well…I wouldn’t call it willingly. It just sort of happened.”

“Harry, Hermione had to stop you from doing this exact thing to yourself last week.” The grip on Harry’s wrist got tighter. He couldn’t look away from Draco, partially because the only time he saw him this passionate about something was a project. Partially because he was right in his face, grey eyes burning into his own. “This whole thing – it’s dangerous. Imagine if something happened. Imagine if the next spell you cast was the one that broke your core. It happened to better people in the past.”

“It’s rare.”

“But it does happen!” Draco yelled. “You are not invincible! I don’t care if you’re the Boy-Who-Lived, or Merlin himself, it’s still a possibility! And I don’t want to witness it, especially not to someone I consider a friend.”

Harry didn’t know how to respond to that. Draco was breathing heavily, cheeks marred red with anger and concern boiling his blood. Admittedly, Harry felt a little bit frightened. It reminded him of when Lily saw the burn on his arm early into his apprenticeship.

He felt guilty.

He hugged Draco.

Draco froze, caught completely off-guard.

“I’m sorry.” Harry mumbled, feeling the exhaustion hitting him slowly. For the past few moments, he had been unimaginably awake for someone who didn’t sleep at all. Must’ve been the emotions running high.

“You should be.” Draco muttered, relaxing and hugging him back. Harry felt a distinct smell of fresh linen and a forest hit his nose. He decided that Draco smelled nice and melted into the warm hug. He was so tired…

Naturally, Draco was quick to notice it.

“Right come on, let’s get you to the Wing. I want Madame Pomfrey to check on you before you fall asleep.” Draco nudged Harry’s head off his shoulders. He picked up one of Lily’s journals at random, and on a whim also pulled Harry’s notes on the Chamber of Secrets into Harry’s bag from where they left them the last time they were in the common room.

…

“You know…Professor McGonagall was right. Until I didn’t see you at breakfast this morning I thought you’d win the bet for sure.” Draco said as they sat in the Hospital Wing sometime later. They were waiting for Madame Pomfrey to do Harry’s examination, as she was busy with a rather urgent case of a hexed second year (the poor girl’s eyes were hexed to pop out every so often – disturbing her and everyone surrounding her).

“Yeah?” Harry said, surprised to hear it.

“Yes. I’m actually a little disappointed you didn’t do it. Glad though, as I don’t have to like to the whole school.” Draco smiled. “When you didn’t turn up to breakfast, I thought you bailed. I would’ve if I were you, but you’re not that kind of person.”

Harry didn’t get a chance to truly consider what Draco had said, or even think about replying as Madame Pomfrey swooped in on them. Immediately, Draco switched to Head Boy mode and started to explain the situation. He was quickly asked to step aside, as the Mediwitch berated Harry on his idiocy. She didn’t stop until Harry was comfortably laid in one of the beds, a dozen diagnostic spells later. He was ordered to rest until the next morning, with a ban on even thinking to use magic until twenty-four hours have passed. To further drive the point home, Madame Pomfrey took his wand and locked it in her office until he was discharged.

“Hey, I forgot to ask, but what about this favour I now owe you?” Harry asked just before Draco left after he was dismissed out of the wing to let Harry have undisturbed rest.

“I don’t think this is the right time to do it.” The wicked smile was back on Draco’s face. “Perhaps I will make you wait a little longer before I call it in.”

Harry groaned, letting his head fall back onto the pillows. Great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And the bet is over! What did you think of it? Did you want Draco or Harry to prevail?   
> A bit shorter than the usual chapter admittedly, but I didn’t feel right tacking on another scene for no reason onto this. Next chapter should be longer, I promise! Reviews are appreciated as always, would love to hear your opinion on how this is going.  
> Also, I broke my personal record of writing with this story – breached 30k words and we’re still not finished and going strong! My previous ‘big’ and finished project was only 30k upon completion so this is very exciting.


	9. Twins

Madame Pomfrey allowed him to sleep until noon, and woke him up for lunch. He was confined to the hospital bed, much to his dismay, and was under strict orders not to sleep anymore until the evening as the Mediwitch wanted him to return his sleeping pattern back to normal. That left Harry awake, still impossibly tired, with only his school bag for company.

He spent the afternoon with the sound of rain tapping against the windows as he wrote up the neat copies of the essays that were due for his classes. He was lucky to have stuffed them into his school bag, or he’d have nothing to do. He drew up the star chart for Astronomy, having packed the textbook into his bag even though he wouldn’t have had the class until Wednesday.

Homework didn’t take that long to do, as the bulk of it was already done, and it left him with a couple of hours until dinner when he was searching for a task.

He picked up his mum’s journal, which ended up being mind-numbingly boring. There were a lot of emotional entries that he elected to skip – he didn’t want to hear about his father’s dreamy eyes or Lily’s journey to discovering her sexuality. The rest of the notes consisted of an experimental potion in its first draft. It didn’t make too much sense, and it was a lot of speculation so Harry dropped it.

He rummaged through the bag, until he noticed the notes on the Chamber of Secrets stuffed into it. He didn’t remember putting them there and thought he left them in the all house common room. Harry figured Draco must’ve dropped them in there earlier, and was thankful for it. He was seriously debating if he was going to put himself through actually reading the gossip Lily wrote down.

Most of the notes that they pulled from the library research repeated themselves. A lot of the books wrote the same information, changing the wording slightly, or added irrelevant detail. Harry sorted through them as he read, the task being time-consuming due to the sheer amount of them and the pages being out of order. By the time that Madame Pomfrey arrived with dinner, Harry was surrounded by scribbled parchment that covered the entire bed (and some of the floor). He managed to condense the information to key facts that stood out to him.

The Chamber was built by Salazar Slytherin to be used as a secretive place to teach his students. After Slytherin left Hogwarts, it became a place only his descendants could access. He left behind a monster, said to be only controlled by those of the Slytherin line.

Harry tried to recall what he knew about Salazar Slytherin, as it was obvious that he was the next point of their research. His mind came up blank, save for the snake motif of the Slytherin house and the green and silver house colours. The years Harry spent in Egypt erased the finer details from his knowledge of British Wizard legends. They were shoddy at best, and he never truly looked into the tales surrounding the founding of Hogwarts. He never expected to come to the school.

Harry scribbled a note on top of the narrowed down list, to remind himself to ask Draco about what he knew. As a Slytherin, and a British Pureblood raised in the country, he would know more than Harry.

Madame Pomfrey huffed as she waved her wand to remove all the parchment from the bed, all of it stacking neatly on the bedside table. She served him dinner, and outright refused to let his friends see him as ‘it would distract him from resting’. Harry could hear the disappointment in Hermione’s voice as she came knocking after Harry started eating. Madame Pomfrey stopped her at the door. Harry had a feeling that it was more of a punishment for him, to drive the ‘don’t do it again’ point home.

It was working.

Before he knew it, the night passed and Harry was getting ready to be discharged just before breakfast. It felt good to stand up again and he stretched his bed sore muscles. He couldn’t imagine staying in bed any longer.

Naturally, it wasn’t a quick affair to leave the Hospital Wing. Before he was allowed to be officially discharged, Madame Pomfrey required him to have a chat with her in her office.

Needless to say, Harry was worried.

The office was small, with glass windows on the walls overlooking the ward. They had curtains that could be drawn if a student needed privacy, but they were pulled up when Harry sat down. He figured it had something to do with the second year in one of the hospital beds, who arrived just after Harry woke up. She had a fever, and something else that made Madame Pomfrey shuffle her into a bed quickly.

Harry took the wooden stool that was usually used by the patients when they were diagnosed in private. Painted white and worn, it matched the chair Madame Pomfrey had behind her desk. There was a tea set on the desk next to some files. A kettle was boiling on a small burner behind the Mediwitch. Harry noticed the certificate of Wizard Medical Training hanging on the wall behind them, next to a photo of a much younger Madame Pomfrey with an older couple.

“Have you met Argus Filch yet? The caretaker?” Madame Pomfrey asked, folding her hands in her lap.

“I’ve seen him around I think…he has a cat, right?” Harry furrowed his brows, jogging his memory. He was lucky to have not had a run in with the resident caretaker yet, although he already heard stories about the man.

Madame Pomfrey nodded.

“You are aware he is a Squib.” She paused. “He wasn’t always one.”

Harry fell silent, realising where the conversation was going. He hunched his shoulders, and looked away from Madame Pomfrey. He did not want to hear what was undoubtedly going to be said.

“Argus Filch was once a Wizard, just like you. He was also a student here at Hogwarts. He was a good student, if not a little distracted. Had a thirst to prove himself.” Madame Pomfrey continued. “He had a cat familiar you may have met already, Mrs Norris. He adored her, and the two were inseparable by the time he reached your age.

“Argus also happened to be…in a disagreement with the Care of Magical Creatures Professor at the time – Professor Kettleburn. The two of them could never see eye to eye.” She smiled sadly. “Sometime in the winter of his seventh year, Mrs Norris was hit with a stray unknown spell. Argus was fighting in the hallways with some students, his bullies, he said. He was heartbroken when Mrs Norris came down with an unknown illness due to the spell. I was the Matron at the time, and I could not help her when he came to me with her. I can heal Wizards, but I do not know animals.” Madame Pomfrey said. “Of course, Argus was too proud to ask his most hated Professor for help as I advised him to.

“He decided to take the matter into his own hands. Skipped days of classes to search for a cure, sleepless and desperately trying everything. By the time the Professors found him – he always knew the castle so well, that boy – Mrs Norris was cured. He was given detention that night with Professor Kettleburn for his actions, and it was to be taken in the Forbidden Forest. Argus refused to mention his physical exhaustion to anyone, and definitely tried to hide the magical exhaustion. Whether it was out of pride or something else, I do not know. His ailments were not discovered until later that night.

“Of course, as fate would have it, things went wrong. Professor Kettleburn and Argus were attacked by the hippogriffs living in the forest. Something frightened the creatures into a frenzy. The two of them made it out alive, but barely. Professor Kettleburn lost one of his limbs to the hippogriffs, and Argus was forced to use his magic. That was the tipping point. His core broke as he desperately tried to save his own life.”

Madame Pomfrey looked directly at Harry, eyes burning into his skull. Harry didn’t dare to meet her gaze, instead looking at the intricate details on the tea set. He stared so hard his vision blurred.

“Argus was left magicless that night, and it was a miracle that he and Professor Kettleburn made it out alive at all. He has been a Squib since then. The Headmaster allowed Argus to stay at Hogwarts as the caretaker after that, as he didn’t have much to call his own outside of school. Him and Professor Kettleburn never did reconcile, Argus blamed him, and the rest of the student body, for the whole situation.” Madame Pomfrey fell silent for a moment, finishing her tale. “I do hope you take this warning seriously. Magical exhaustion can and will happen, but you need to know your limits. There is no hope for you if you push past them.”

Madame Pomfrey shooed him out of the Hospital Wing soon after, urging him to eat a large breakfast and not to overexert himself for the next few days. Harry left not really feeling hungry, and in a much quieter mood.

Filch’s story put a lot into perspective, and so has the realisation that Madame Pomfrey can’t cure everything. The thought that he was not invincible was planted in the back of his head, as something to mull over for days to come. Some things had no way of going back, and Harry realised that after hearing about Filch. It hit him hard to actually know a real, alive person who lost their magic. He couldn’t imagine how it must feel to lose an ability you had since birth.

He couldn’t imagine feeling that empty.

Seeing the caretaker on his way to the Great Hall made his stomach drop and a look of guilt fall upon his face. Filch noticed him from where he was stood on the other side of the corridor, and sneered at him before scurrying off. Harry wasn’t sure what to do with the information he was trusted with.

He couldn’t tell people about it. Maybe the student body would be understanding, but if everyone started to look like they pity Filch, it would just make it worse for the man. He didn’t know everyone well enough to trust them not to say anything, or look like they know something. Even if the hatred of Filch was reduced, it wouldn’t make it any easier for the caretaker.

Harry arrived at the Great Hall with his metaphorical tail curled between his legs. Students from all houses stared at him like he grew another head and he wanted nothing more than to hide in the dormitory. However, Madame Pomfrey had spies everywhere and he didn’t want to face the witch if she knew he skipped breakfast.

He picked out Draco sat next to Hermione at the Gryffindor table, and made a beeline for them. The rest of the seventh year Gryffindors were sat in the same area, and noticed him approaching. Seamus and Dean looked downright distraught when they saw him, and jumped to their feet when he was close enough. Lavender scowled as Seamus leaped over the table to get to the side with Dean and Harry.

“I was rooting for you!” Seamus wailed.

“We all were rooting for you!” Dean cried.

The two of them embraced him from either side, and Harry tried to peel the two Gryffindors off himself whilst laughing nervously. He had a feeling that they bet some money on him and lost out big time. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Neville smiling innocently in their direction.

“I’m sorry guys.” Harry said, rubbing his neck. “How much did you bet?”

“Ten galleons each.” Dean groaned. Harry hissed painfully at that, it was a lot of change to be throwing around. “We thought you had it in the bag.”

“So did I.” Harry smiled grimly. Neville scooted to the side, so Harry could sit down next to Hermione. Draco leaned over the table to catch his gaze, looking pleased, but with a hint of concern.

“Madame Pomfrey released you already?” He asked.

“Got a clean bill of health, but she warned me to take it easy. Whatever that means.” Draco looked at him pointedly. “Scared me into not doing it again and kicked me out to take care of the actually sick students.”

Draco hummed, accepting that answer. Breakfast moved on, and Harry was just glad to be out of the Hospital Wing. He never liked hospitals.

“I bet if Harry tried it now, he would get the spell correct.” Seamus claimed after a while, pointing his sausage at Ron. The ginger boy looked doubtful.

“He didn’t get it yesterday though.” Ron countered.

“Yesterday, his magic was exhausted.”

“That doesn’t mean he can get the spell correct.”

“McGonagall told him what he did wrong! He knows what to do now.”

“Yeah no, I reckon it still wouldn’t happen.”

“How about we test it then? Harry should be alright for one spell. Hey Harry!”

Harry looked up from his breakfast, mouth stuffed full of beans and toast. He blinked owlishly at Seamus and Ron, who were looking at him expectantly. There was a fire burning in Seamus’ eyes that looked somewhat concerning. Harry didn’t hear what they were talking about, but had a strong feeling it was to do with him.

“You think you can do the transfiguration spell for us? Like now?” Seamus asked quickly. “You know what to do now.”

Harry hesitated.

“I mean yeah…but…” He muttered, not entirely convinced. His bruised ego wasn’t ready for more humiliation just yet. He wasn’t planning on trying the spell for a long time, or at least until the next time it would be brought up in class at least.

“Aren’t you at least a little curious?” Seamus egged him on. “Come on, Harry. You know what to do now, right?”

If he was being honest with himself, he was a little curious. After all, his spectacular fail the previous day could easily be chalked up to exhaustion than his inability to use magic on regular circumstances.

He _could_ try it.

“Harry, you literarily just recovered from magical exhaustion.” Hermione complained, sending the group of boys a disapproving look.

*

Harry sunk low into his seat, trying his hardest to ignore the smug look Draco was sending him. They were in the library, with Hermione, and for some reason Ron. The latter boy seemed to be unable to look at Draco and Harry without stifling a laugh. His ears were going an interesting shade of crimson every time he wheezed from trying to keep it together.

Harry, in the meantime, fumed silently to himself. He was still mulling over the events of the morning, which left him in a confused mood. Thus, he was trying to glare a hole into Draco’s skull while sliding further and further down the library seat. It appeared that in mere moments, Harry would slide all the way down to be underneath the table.

“Honestly,” Hermione huffed, pulling out her study material onto the table. The thick books slammed into the wood with an audible bang. “Ron if you’re going to study with us, please compose yourself. You two as well.”

Draco smirked at Harry, but sent Hermione an innocent look. The Head Girl knew better than to trust it. Instead, she chose to ignore it for the sake of her sanity.

“I suggest we start with the Defense notes. I don’t think we’ll get anywhere if we pick up Transfiguration again.” Hermione continued.

“I don’t think Harry needs anymore Transfiguration practise at the moment.” Draco mentioned, leaning his chin on his hand. “He did spectacularly this morning. Almost twice, even.”

It was true.

“I can’t believe you’d do this to me.” Harry muttered.

“I wasn’t exactly subtle about it.”

“I was _humiliated._ ”

“And people think I’m the drama queen. You were fine.”

Harry grumbled and pulled himself up. He leaned his head on his folded arms on the table, seemingly pouting. Not that he would admit to it.

In the end, Seamus convinced him to try the spell again, against Harry’s better judgement. He chose to do the parchment to fairy transfiguration, as he didn’t have his chalice on him (why would he?) and he had a feeling the House Elves wouldn’t be happy if he transfigured one of their goblets. He was all ready to cast the spell, completely unaware that Draco took a step back from everyone and did some magic himself.

Of course, the transfiguration worked – but the fairy that appeared looked strangely familiar.

It was then that everyone noticed Draco struggling not to laugh in the background. When the Gryffindors did notice, Ron and Seamus howled with laughter – the latter didn’t even seem to care that the spell didn’t have a chance to hit the parchment that was now held by Draco and didn’t work.

After that, Draco got his fairy back and Harry got the chance to try the spell again – which unsurprisingly worked. However, everyone was too busy talking and laughing about the genius idea Draco had to repeat the prank from the week before which started the whole bet business.

“I’m still mad at you.” Harry said to Draco, as Hermione jabbed him in the ribs with the pointy end of her quill, urging him to do work. He pulled out his Defence notes, and noticed the Chamber of Secrets notes that were folded in between them. “Need to talk to you later though.”

Harry tugged the parchment on the Chamber of Secrets out from between the others so Draco could see it properly. The Slytherin noticed them and his eyes lit up, obviously excited to see progress.

“Alright. Right, Defence it is then?” Draco asked, perking up.

“What did Quirrell say he’s going to do next week? I didn’t listen.” Ron asked, scratching his head.

“Spells and their incantations test.” Hermione replied. “From the entire course.”

“Seriously? Even First Year?” Ron groaned.

“I’d like to think we wouldn’t have to revise First Year spells as they’re already second nature so it shouldn’t be an issue.” Draco pointed out. Ron turned a darker shade of red, and mumbled something under his breath.

“Quirrell expects us to remember everything from seven years of teaching?” Harry asked, surprised. Rowan wasn’t that demanding with him, so long Harry knew the spells he needed to actually do work, he didn’t need him to become a walking spellbook.

“Of course. We’d have wasted seven years of time otherwise – no point having a N.E.W.T. in something when you forgot majority of the spells.” Draco said.

Harry hummed, and the four of them got to work for the rest of the lunch period (some more enthusiastically than others).

*

“Hey Hermione? Not that I’m complaining, but why did Ron willingly spend time in the library with us?” Harry asked.

Hermione, who was occupying the most comfortable arm chair in the Gryffindor common room, looked up from her book. It was early evening, and Harry managed to convince her to take a rest from doing work. She ended up coercing him into looking into ancient artefacts and legends, which was something he was more interested in, but wished he could just lay down and just do nothing.

“You don’t know?” She asked, surprised. Harry raised an eyebrow at the amused look playing on her face. It wasn’t often that he saw her so amused about something not to do with her duties, or work. “I’m surprised you haven’t caught on yet, honestly.”

“I have been a bit preoccupied.”

“Well, you do share a dorm with Ronald. Seamus and Dean have been teasing him lately.” She rolled her eyes. “Ronald has a crush on Padma Patil, and wants to ask her to the next Hogsmeade weekend.”

“Okay, but what does that have to do with him willingly stepping into the library? To study even?” Harry asked. “I still don’t get it.”

“Honestly, Harry.” Hermione huffed, closing her book. “Seamus and Dean have been quite adamant in mentioning it to Ron at every chance they get. You know how Ron gets with that sort of thing. Also, I think he’s actually making an effort to try a bit harder in class, Padma is a Ravenclaw and it might be his way of trying to impress her. It’s quite sweet actually.”

Harry didn’t know much about Padma, besides her being a Ravenclaw and Parvati’s twin sister. He saw her in class a few times, and she seemed quite focused on her studies – reminded him of a less boisterous Hermione. She looked quite pretty as well, and Harry could see what Ron might see in the girl. However, he could also see how it could all end in disaster, especially if Seamus and Dean were involved in some way.

“Make way! Make way, we have a petrified Weasley!”

Harry and Hermione turned as they heard the commotion, and saw Dean and Seamus enter with Ron hanging onto their arms. Ron looked pale, as if his soul got sucked out of him. The other two Gryffindors shooed some First Years away from the nearest armchairs they saw, and let Ron fall into it. He slumped, sliding into the seat, staring into the empty space with a blank expression. Hermione and Harry jumped to their feet and joined the rest of their year that was slowly crowding around Ron.

“What happened?” Hermione asked, looking from Ron to Dean and Seamus. The latter two were bright red in the cheeks, as if they laughed a little too hard. At the question, they giggled to themselves like a pair of school girls.

“Can’t believe it, but – Ron did it!” Dean choked out between laughter. “He actually did it!”

“The idiot asked Padma out!” Seamus finished, clutching to Dean’s shoulder as he was shaking with laughter. “I don’t know what came over him.”

“Oh honestly,” Hermione frowned at them, before turning to Ron. “Ron are you okay?”

Ron made a desperate noise that was a little bit between an exhale and a mumble, staring off into the distance with glazed over eyes. He blinked a few times and slowly looked over to Hermione.

“They said yes.” Ron whispered.

“They?” Hermione frowned.

“That’s the best thing!” Seamus howled, his shoulders shaking. “Both Padma and Parvati said yes!”

After the Gryffindors got over their understandable shock and surprise (and Ron stopped resembling a vegetable), the whole situation was explained much more clearly. Ron in his infinite wisdom decided to ask Padma out while her twin sister was there – he claimed that getting a girl alone is near impossible anyway, and he preferred it to be Parvati over Lavender Brown. From witness accounts of Dean and Seamus, there was a lot of stammering and Ron’s face turning the colour of beetroot before he blurted out the question (“It was like a train wreck. Horrifying, but you couldn’t look away” Dean said.).

After that it came to light that although neither Parvati nor Padma outright fancy Ron, they did think he was worth a second look and liked that he could tell them apart thanks to having grown up with twins. The girls didn’t as much ask him, but state that he will be taking them both to Hogsmeade on the next weekend, during which they will decide what will happen in the future.

“Honestly Ronald, I do hope you know what you’re doing by going through with this.” Hermione frowned.

“What? What did I do?” Ron whined. “Finally, not one, but _two_ girls are interested in me and I’m just getting told off.”

“That’s the problem,” Hermione replied. “You can’t just lead Parvati on if you only like Padma”

“Who said I only liked Padma?” Ron muttered.

Harry snickered at the retort, watching Hermione’s frown deepen.

“Whilst I am all for polyamorous relationships and I am happy that you are not turning your nose up at this, you need to figure out if you are willing to take this seriously. This could go in many different ways and there’s a thousand places for you to mess up.” Hermione explained. “Polyamory isn’t for everyone, so you need to ask yourself if it is for you. Then, you need to let Padma and Parvati make their own decision about it. Hogsmeade could go a different way and one of them could decide that you’re not what they’re looking for and leave you with the other. Or both could leave.”

It was Ron’s turn to frown.

“I think Hermione has a point, but she’s taking this too seriously.” Harry decided to pat Ron’s shoulder in a show of solidarity. “The most you can do is not make an idiot out of yourself during Hogsmeade. The rest is out of your control. Whether either will want to date you after that is out of your control.”

“Dating both of them seemed great until you brought all this up…that’s twice the trouble too…” Ron muttered, throwing his head back in dejection.

“This doesn’t mean you are to give up now.” Hermione said firmly. “I’m sure from their side Parvati and Padma will have a similar talk with you when the time comes. However, I feel like you need a few days to mull it over because I seriously doubt you did much research on this beyond those lacking sexual health classes we had with the Ministry employee. Polyamory is a perfectly normal and healthy way of dating. It is not a fetish, and neither is dating twins. This is not some sexual fantasy coming true, these are real people with feelings and boundaries.”

Harry and Ron squirmed uncomfortably in their seats when Hermione started to talk about fetishes. Ron looked guilty of at least giving the ‘dating twins’ idea a thought in his head, but wisely said nothing. Instead, he nodded in agreement, and Harry would himself doing so as well. Hermione, seemingly satisfied, folded her arms over her chest and straightened her back.

“If you need anymore help with this, you know where to find me. I have books that deal with those subjects in a really accessible way.”

Harry took that moment to slip away before he ended up on the receiving end of a bird and the bees talk from Hermione. He didn’t rescue Ron, because if he was going to be drooling over pretty girls for the foreseeable future, he could sit through a well-meaning talk about going about it the safe way.

*

Harry arrived at the all-house common room to find Draco already in it, lounging by the fire. He was clearly relaxed in the environment, having discarded most of his uniform besides his trousers and shirt, and melted into the plush folds of the sofa. One of his long legs was folded up, with his ankle crossing at the knee. There was an open book on his chest, and an arm leaning against his forehead, as he stared at the fire flickering in the fireplace.

“Hey,” Harry greeted as he shut the door behind him. Draco looked up at him and sent a tired smile.

“Evening,” He said. “You mentioned you needed to talk?”

“Yeah, thanks for dropping those notes in my bag by the way. I picked up the wrong Lily journal and ended up with a _diary_. “ Harry shuddered. “Anyways – I think I found a lead. What do you know about Salazar Slytherin?”

“Besides the obvious, you mean?”

Harry hummed, sliding down to sit cross legged beside the sofa Draco was draped on. He rested his arm besides Draco’s body on the sofa, not noticing that his fingertips curled lightly around Draco’s forearm that just happened to be there.

“Salazar Slytherin pushed a lot of his ideals onto the students, just like all the other Founders really. However, he happed to be a stronger believer in the old ways than the others – which I suppose were just ‘the way’ at the time. The pureblood ideals were his priority, and he fiercely fought to keep them.” Draco lowered his voice, unfocused eyes looking in no particular direction as he was visibly in thought. “The fear that wizardkind would die out due to dilution with muggleborn and muggle blood. How our culture would die out due to the integration. How we need to only marry other purebloods, keep our lines pure.”

Draco dragged his nails lightly across the exposed skin of Harry’s arm, not entirely paying attention to it. Harry leaned back, resting his head on the side of the sofa and looking over at Draco.

“Did you ever believe it?”

The blonde’s lips thinned into a grim smile as he clearly put off answering the question.

“How could I not? I was raised by those ideals, in the early years at least. The war had just ended, and everyone was unsure of where they stood. My Grandfather was not much help either. It took years for me to find my own opinion on it.” Draco cocked his head to the side, focusing on Harry. “Took even longer for my parents, but they got there in the end.”

“And what’s your opinion now?”

“It’s all a bunch of bollocks, to put it simply.” Draco chuckled quietly. “There is no difference between a wizard like me and a witch like Granger. Blood has nothing to do with magical worth. Muggleborns exist so we wouldn’t have to resort to marrying each other’s cousins, although some seem to choose to do that anyway to keep the blood ‘pure’… and I guess, there’s something that has to be said about the Muggles’ ability to flourish without magic.”

“Yes, there is.” Harry agreed, absentmindedly tracing the patterns made by the folds and creases of Draco’s shirt. “Back to Slytherin though.”

“He…had a fondness for serpents. Some believe his family came from a line of Magizoologists, as he was said to keep at least one of the creatures with him at all times. It was anything serpent-like too – dragons, the Hydra… From accounts of his life, it was one of his life’s passions along with potions.” Draco explained. “In fact, he loved them so much that he could speak to them.”

Harry froze in his position, muscles tensing as he heard the words fall out of Draco’s mouth. The blonde clearly noticed the change, his gaze snapping back to the Gryffindor.

“Is something the matter?”

“You said he could…speak to snakes?”

“Yes, he had the ability. From what I read, it was genetic and has been passed down to his descendants. It is a sign of the Heir of Slytherin for one to be able to speak it. If I remember correctly, the language was called Parseltongue.” Draco explained, as he pushed himself up on his elbows. Harry’s fingertips brushed against the whole length of Draco’s arm as he moved past, and it left Harry with a shiver running down his spine. Harry’s arm fell back to the floor.

Draco moved so he laid on his side, resting on his elbows to be closer to Harry and be able to look at him eye to eye. The other boy averted his gaze, choosing to instead inspect the wallpaper. It was peeling in one corner.

“Is something the matter?” Draco asked.

Harry was quiet for a long moment, trying very hard to fight back the urge to look over at Draco. He eventually gave in and sighed as he closed his eyes.

“I didn’t realise this was such a big deal.” Harry muttered. Draco frowned.

“What’s a big deal?”

“Well… I can speak Parseltongue? I didn’t know it was so rare in England. Like half of Egypt speaks it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So here’s where I would write my excuse for the lateness, if I had one! Nah but for real, I had 80% of this chapter written for like…a year? I hit a roadblock with the Ron scene (which I really hope I didn’t offend anyone with!! I’m trying my best to portray other LGBTQ+ relationships in this story besides our good old Draco and Harry. If I got something incorrect, please do let me know!) and then I was in my final year of university. Which kicked my ass.  
> I’m now finished though, and in a full-time job with more consistent time off. I’m not saying I’ll be doing scheduled updates, but at least it won’t be a year until the next one! Writing the next bit as we speak, as I’m real excited about it. World building yeah!   
> Would love to hear your feedback on this chapter, it wasn’t very Draco-Harry centric, which I hope the last bit made up for.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on fanfiction.net under my username ArtEnchanter.


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